


and you know damn well, for you I would ruin myself (a million little times)

by gooverly



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Photographer!Jamie, Pining, Sexual Tension, editor-in-chief!dani
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:56:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28510779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooverly/pseuds/gooverly
Summary: (AU)‘So you’re cute and have a good taste… Tell me, why didn’t I come here before?’You choke a little on your drink, heat rising in your cheeks. It would be the end of you if she came here regularly, flirting with you like that.Instead you say, ‘Well, I could ask you the same.’ORJamie is the new in-house-photographer of a women’s magazine. Dani is the editor-in-chief who Jamie happened to have a one-night-stand with a few weeks ago.
Relationships: Dani Clayton & Jamie
Comments: 95
Kudos: 167





	1. we're just strangers with some memories

**Author's Note:**

> Hey what's kickin' little chickens?  
> ready for Jamie having a secret love affair with her boss? 
> 
> I bet you are.
> 
> Comments are egg-cellent, so leave one if you can and feel like it!
> 
> Rated E for later chapters. 
> 
>   
> [You might find elements of THE BOLD TYPE, but it has nothing to do with it. Also the bit with the squirrels is true, really happened.]

According to ‘The Times’ there are 2,373 squirrels in Central Park, New York City. You know because you were there. You helped count them. You and about 320 other citizens signed up to solve a zoological mystery.

Over a course of two weeks in November last year, you volunteered to estimate the number of squirrels in the park.

You remember it very fondly, as if it was yesterday. For each of your four shifts, you were assigned an area to walk about for 20 minutes. For every squirrel you’ve seen you had to mark its exact position on a detailed map.

You also had to track a series of traits: what colour had its coat? Did it have any highlights on it? The problem is, squirrels move quickly, so it can be hard to judge what colour they are.

If they happened to make any squirrel-sounds you had to add that to your notes as well, distinguishing between _moans_ , _kuks_ and _quaas._

Citizens science projects are far from perfect but the organization that started this project, used a formula from a 1959 squirrel study to come up with a final count. You even looked it up in the library later.

The reason why you are so fascinated by squirrels is simple: it was the very first animal you took a photograph of using professional equipment. Back in Bly, the day you got your acceptance letter from ‘Royal College of Art’, you spent the entire afternoon in your garden trying to take a picture of an Eastern Grey squirrel that happened to live by the giant willow tree.

Just right about when the sun started to set, daring to change the lightning, the atmosphere, all of it, you did it. The perfect shot. In the end, however, you developed the one photo you made mere seconds before, the one that turned out blurry because your hands were shaking from the effort of holding a camera in the same position for hours.

You framed it shortly after, putting it on the shelf in your bedroom next the first book on photography you ever purchased. Since that very day, the photograph served as both your lucky charm and a reminder: you can always do better.

Sometimes you get nostalgic, just thinking about squirrels since they hold such a deep meaning for you: it’s where _your_ life begins. Good thing is that in Central Park they are literally everywhere if you just know where to look. Some days, spending the afternoon in the park is all it takes to get back on track and to remember to be the best version of yourself.

Also, you do not need more than your Nikon D5, a bottle of water and a good chunk of determination and you can do anything you set your mind to. You tell yourself you won’t go home until you’re satisfied with the result.

And that’s where you are now: trying to capture a dark-coated squirrel next acorn tree that you’ve been watching through your lens for over an hour. You had put down a walnut on the grass a few metres away from you, hoping a squirrel would be brave enough to come get it.

Squirrels in Central Park or also those in St. James Park in London, they’re so used to humans being in their space constantly, that they are practically hand tame. You could even pet them if you’re lucky enough.

It took some time but eventually one came your way - slowly, tentatively and ready to back off when needed – and took the nut. It didn’t run off with it either, in fact it’s seconds away from cracking it and you can’t believe this is happening. If that wasn’t enough, it also looks _your way_ now with its pitch-black eyes, its small paws gripping the nut and you think, _this is it_.

Just when you’re about to press the shutter button on your camera, your phone starts to ring in the back pocket of your jeans and you snap back to reality. You wince just the tiniest bit but that’s enough and the squirrel’s gone. And the moment too, just like that.

You reluctantly answer the phone, asking yourself who on earth could possibly want something from you now and you almost want to greet the person on the other line with a _thanks a lot for ruining my day._

But it’s Owen and even if you tried you could never be mad at him. Although, you must say, his timing is absolute shite.

*

‘Jamie, love, I got news’, he says and he sounds so excited, almost like a child on Christmas morning. It would be adorable if you wouldn’t be slightly annoyed by his intrusion.

You turn onto your back then, twirling a leaf between your fingers, while Owen babbles non-stop on the other end of the receiver. For a moment you wonder if that is a new record of the most words spoken in a minute.

Your brain, however, manages to filter out the most important stuff, which is:

The in-house-photographer from the magazine Owen works for got fired, meaning they are currently looking for a new one to take their spot.

What does that have to do with me, Owen?’, you ask, genuinely confused. ‘Well, I think you should apply for that position’, he said next, enumerating all the reasons why you absolutely should consider it.

When he finally pauses to take a second to breathe, you say, ‘Did you hit your head and forgot what kind of photographer I am, you muppet?’

But he just laughs and you can’t believe you have to spell it out for him. ‘Animals’, you say, shaking your head in disbelief. ‘I photograph animals, Owen, not… _people.’_

It’s been ages ago since the last time you took a picture of another human being, professionally that is, with proper gear and all that.

Besides, wild-life-photography is something completely different.

Animals, they do what they want to do, really. You can’t tell them to look your way, do something cute or stand where the light is better.

You have to be there when it happens, when they decide to do something worth taking a photograph of. You have to wait and you have to be patient. It takes a very long time to get a good wild-life shot, even longer to make great ones.

However, it’s never wasted time either. The longer you spend watching them, the better you get to know them. You learn to anticipate what they might do in a certain situation or a particular time of the day.

Getting the perfect shot makes all the waiting worthwhile.

You have no interest in photographing anything beyond that, and thus working at a women’s magazine wouldn’t make any sense at all. It would be something like trying to photograph a female cheetah with her cubs in the swamps of the amazon rainforest.

(For the record: they live and hunt in open grasslands and bushy areas in parts of Africa and the Middle East.)

The problem with all of this is that Owen has some solid arguments, knowing exactly how to support them. Being a writer definitely has its perks, that’s for sure.

And you shouldn’t be beginning to entertain his idea, but you do. Even though comparing the two niches is like saying Michelangelo’s ‘David’ and Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ are similar, just because they’re both art.

You don’t really know what convinced you in the end.

Maybe it was him paying you a compliment, that made you blush, ‘Whatever you photograph is bloody brilliant.’

Could well be, that it was also the way he said, ‘Everyone needs a challenge every once in a while.’

But in hindsight, though, it surely was _you need the money_ bit, that made you do it. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?

Anyway, you decide to keep your expectations relatively low so you wouldn’t be disappointed afterwards if it shouldn’t work out. Besides, you don’t really believe they’d take you of all people:

One, this is New York City and not Bly. ‘Scarlet Magazine’ is a women’s magazine bound to become the best in the state and it’s not some insignificant paper back in your hometown, that has at the very most one hundred weekly readers.

Two, you are a wildlife-photographer, who, to be fair, is going through a rough patch at the moment – your pieces aren’t selling too well and never for the price you deem appropriate, bearing in mind how much work, love and patience you pour into them – and you are more than just a bit out of practice.

And three, the very last time you photographed professional models was in your college days. And that’s how long ago? Five years? Perhaps six. But not more than seven. You did do some street photography in India and Thailand a few summers ago, but it’s hardly anything like partaking in fashion-photoshoot or anything of that sort.

Despite our better judgement you throw together a folder with your pieces of the last years, including your favourites. You can’t resist to put in some wild-life-shots, just so they see how versatile you are. You give it to Owen later that day so he can take it with him tomorrow.

You can’t even begin to imagine the amount of applications the editorial office of the magazine is going to be flooded with the next couple of days, meaning that yours is only one of many, many others.

So, all things considered, the chances that they hire you, or at least invite you to a job-interview are very slim if not … non-existent. Yes, also if Owen puts in a good word for you like he promised.

*

A few days later you sit in your favourite underground bar, waiting for Owen to show up. You have some big news and you decided against a text or a call, because you need to see his face when you tell him.

He’s running late, which usually is very unlike him, but it has occurred more and more the worse the state of his mother has gotten. By the time he gets there you’re already on your second drink of the evening.

When the barista asks what they can get him, he orders a goddamn Piñacolada. You laugh a little when it arrives, ‘Owen, I know you are an ally and I love you for that, but this here’, you point to the drink in his hand, ‘is a gay drink’.

He shrugs, unimpressed, ‘Look, I am at a gay bar with you. So I think people here automatically assume that I fancy dudes with or without that drink.’

‘Fair point’, you say with a chuckle, taking a long drink from your own glass.

‘So why did you want to get a drink on a weekday? You never do that, unless there’s something to celebrate… Or you’re heartbroken. What is it?’, he asks, raising his eyebrows.

You chuckle and you are bubbling with excitement, ‘Take a guess.’

You see the exact moment it hits him: His eyes grow big, his jaw falls open in shock and then he says, unable to keep the incredulity from his tone, ‘Noooo, Jamie, really? Are you’re trying to tell me that you – ‘

You nod, hiding your proud grin behind your glass. His face lights up then, a huge smile spreading from one ear to the other. ‘Wow, that’s huge’, he says and shoves you playfully, making the drink in your hand spill over the rim of the glass. You laugh a little, delighted that he’s so happy for you. ‘You need to me everything, champ!’

And you do, you tell him all of it: About the call you got this morning, while you were on your run through the park. How you almost didn’t hear what they said because you only heard your heart thudding in your ear.

By the time they said you made it onto the short-list, you had to ask them to repeat what they said, because you couldn’t believe what they said.

But no, they really invited you to a job interview at Scarlet.

It’s safe to say Owen goes absolute bonkers after that, ‘Dude, that’s impressive! Do you have any idea how many people applied for that job?’

You shake your head loosely. ‘Well, if Henry’s word is to be trusted, then...’, he lowers his voice as if it was some sort of secret, but it might just be the alcohol buzzing in his veins that makes him act like a total dork. ‘…you have outdone fifty-three other photographers.’

You narrow his eyes at him, because it wouldn’t be the first time he’d say non-sense while inebriated, ‘You’re kidding right?’

‘No, I’m deadly serious’, he tells you and you can see it in his eyes that it’s the truth. ‘Cheers to you, Jamie.’ Owen raises his glass and you click them together messily. 

You cannot for the life of yours believe your own luck.

However, Owen is convinced that luck has barely anything to do with it. Maybe partially, yes, but the thing that got you this far, according to him, is not that. ‘It’s your talent’, he explains, ‘they have seen it in the way you capture beauty in a moment in time.’ You swatted the menu at him when he said that ‘God, stop it.’

A scotch and a glass of wine later Owen is pretty drunk, ‘And that kids, is why I shouldn’t drink on weekdays. Booze hits stronger when it knows you have to work the day after’, he slurs. You laugh, ruffling his hair, ‘Of course if that makes you feel better. It’s definitely not the fact that you didn’t stick to one type of alcohol.’

You call your friend an uber soon after that because well, he’s absolutely wasted. ‘Sure you don’t want to c-come with?’, he asks, tongue sitting heavy in his mouth, when you fasten his seatbelt. You shake your head, smiling, ‘No, I think I’ll stay a little longer.’

He wriggles his eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes back in your head so much it almost hurts. Yes, you were wondering if you could get even luckier tonight, but the way he tugs you close and mutters, ‘Go get ‘em, tiger’, makes you regret letting him have that last drink.

*

It’s not long before your evening takes an exciting turn. You’re at the bar casually flirting with Theo, the barista while nursing your drink, when _she_ shows up. The very moment she barges through the door of the bar, you know you’re a goner.

Blonde hair, that could appear _golden_ in the light of day. Skin like milk and honey. Eyes a shade of blue deeper the deepest depths of the sea.

A sundress. Denim jacket. White sneakers.

You let your eyes rake over her figure, taking in how the dress hugs her in all the right places, how the jacket gives the outfit a laid-back touch, how the shoes look better with the dress than heels ever could.

You tell yourself not to stare, but you feel so drawn to her. You force yourself to look away, but it’s only working for a couple of seconds. Your eyes find her again.

You know you shouldn’t look at her like that, but holy hell, she’s hot.

And really, you wouldn’t mind spending the night with her.

When Theo sees the look on your face, sees who you’re looking at, she lets out a low whistle, muttering, ‘Damn, looks like I don’t stand a chance.’

She grins then, obviously amused by you being completely flustered and not upset at all that she can’t hold your attention any longer, when the woman sits down on the bar stool next to you.

From that moment on it’s only you and her.

Even though it’s a Tuesday night, there are quite some people in the bar, drinking, dancing, bantering. The spot next to yours is pretty much the only one left. Now that’s convenient, isn’t it?

You can’t ignore that up close she looks even prettier. Maybe a bit too pretty.

Definitely too pretty.

You shake your head, taking a long drink from your glass, _yep, she’s so outta my league._

Theo asks the woman what she can do her for and she looks at you then, winks and says, her eyes never leaving you, ‘I’ll take what she’s having’.

You blink one, two, three times, and your brain takes a moment too long to catch up. But when it finally clicks, it screams at you at full volume, _she’s flirting with you, idiot. Fuckin’ say something!’_

And before you can stop yourself, the words spill out of your mouth, ‘Haven’t seen you around here before.’

You want to kick yourself for using the most worn out pick up line in existence. Well, maybe it is not as bad as _you come here often?_ That would’ve been worse.

But she just laughs and you think that she has no right to be this gorgeous, ‘Maybe that’s because I am not from around here’, she comments, vaguely gesturing with her hands.

It’s not long before Theo places the woman’s drink in front of her, giving you a look knowing look, before she draws a beer for another guest. You watch the woman intently as she takes the first sip of her drink – apricot mojito, your favourite – and she hums in contentment.

‘So you’re cute and have a good taste… Tell me, why didn’t I come here before?’

You choke a little on your drink, heat rising in your cheeks. It would be the end of you, if she came here regularly, flirting with you like that.

Instead you say, ‘Well, I could ask you the same.’ Your brain, that is usually unable to function around beautiful women seems to cut you some slack and you’d say you almost sound suave, ‘No seriously, what brings you to this bar of all places. If you don’t mind me asking?’

She tilts her head back then, running her fingers through her blonde hair and _god_ , the way she does it makes you want to pull on it. Then, for a fleeting second the motion exposes the pale skin of her neck and you ask yourself what she might taste like right there.

You avert your eyes then, shifting your glance around the room, feeling ashamed for having inappropriate thoughts about someone you literally just met. ‘Want a typical answer or do you want to hear the truth?’, she asks with a chuckle.

You dare to look at her again, because you can’t not do it, and she seems to become more stunning with every time you do. _Jesus_. You swallow, ‘Whatever you feel most comfortable with, love.’

She gives you a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and you wonder why that is, ‘Well, I’d like not to be _me_ for little while… I want to leave all my life, my responsibilities and other people’s expectations behind. Even if it’s just for a night.’

You simply nod because there were times in your life where you felt the same. ‘So I thought a small gay bar at the other end of the city would be perfectly splendid for that.’

You think about her words for a moment as you move a finger along the rim of the glass, ‘I reckon your plan has a flaw.’

‘Is that so?’, she says in a way she shouldn’t, because damn, you almost forget what you want to say. You bring your glass to your lips again to buy yourself some time.

‘I mean, how should anyone know you’re not you, when there’s no one to share it with?’, you ask her as your gaze trails the outlines of her beautiful face.

She sighs softly, ‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right.’

You clear your throat, telling yourself to be brazen because this might me the only chance you have with a woman like her, ‘I could be anyone you want’, you say tentatively and her head tilts sideways just a little, eyeing you curiously and it’s enough to keep you talking.

‘We could be strangers in the night, who don’t know anything about the other. No _where do you come from,_ no _what do you do,_ hell, not even _what’s your name._ At when we part ways in the end … you go back to your life and I’ll go back to mine. And we’ll most likely never see each other again.’

You swallow down your _but I really hope we do_ as you finish your mojito.

Your tongue darts out to swipe over your lip to lick away the last bit of your drink. Her gaze drops to your, lingers there for a moment, long enough for you to notice, before your eyes meet again.

She points at your empty glass and a smirk appears on her face, which you definitely read too much into. ‘Can I buy you another?’

*

When she asks you if you play pool and if you’d fancy a game, you didn’t know you’d let yourself in on. Even though you beat your friends at it every single time, next to her you look like a fucking amateur.

Rather than making you lose, she insists on showing you a thing or two so you can improve your shots. ‘So you can keep up with me’, she says as she makes her way to you to the other side of the table. The teasing quality in her tone isn’t entirely new, but now there is something else to it you can’t bring yourself to even consider.

She stands beside you now and if the proximity of your bodies makes it damn hard to concentrate. ‘This one is called the closed bridge technique’, she explains as she shows you how to do it. ‘Makes you look like professional player if done right. Also, your shots will be more accurate.’

You try to imitate her, but it doesn’t look the same as when she does it. She giggles softly, ‘No, look, like this.’

Normally you wouldn’t say demonstrating how to hold the cue stick in a certain manner is a hands-on activity – yes, even if the other person can’t get the hang of it at all – but you don’t mind when she does it.

However, now you got another problem: The moment you feel her close as she stands behind you, your brain short-circuits and your nerves kick into overdrive.

You can’t focus on any of the words that come from her, hear them only distantly when she says:

‘Put your left hand on the surface of the table, like that.’

‘Now put your cue inside the circle you made with your index finger and thumb.’

‘Motion your cue forward and backward to loosen the circle enough to make it seem comfortable.’

When she moves even closer, because you don’t do it right – of course, you didn’t listen. You were too busy taking in her scent _,_ the sound of her voice – her hand finds yours, adjusting the position of your cue stick and,

You _feel_ her now.

Before you even realize you melt into the touch, your eyes slipping closed at the sensation, and god help you, you even push your body into hers without thinking, biting down on your bottom lip, as you try to hold back whatever that might leave you if you don’t.

And then you hear it,

A soft _oh_ , followed by an honest-to-God _mhm._

The room suddenly tilts sideways, making your head spin, spin, spin.

Within an instant your veins are filled with pure pleasure, pumping desire throughout your body, kicking all the air from your lungs.

You desperately want to say her name, want her to say yours too, over and over again.

‘Fuck.’

As you swear under your breath, you feel grip on your waist tightening, hear her ragged breath in your ear, smell her scent even more now, and well,

Now you don’t want to play anymore.

Besides, you get the idea that she, too, would rather do something else instead.

You, maybe.

*

When you say goodbye later that night it’s almost dawn. The city slowly comes alive again and with it the journey of yours comes to an end. 

The exhaustion settles deep in your bones and you feel the soreness of the muscles in your body with each step you take.

As you the walk beside each other along the East River, savouring the last few minutes before you’re both going back to your lives, you say, ‘I think that’s where we part ways.’

She smiles sadly, ‘I think so too, yeah.’

You return the smile, not ready to let go of your hand just yet, when she brushes a curl out of your hair, ‘I know I said I didn’t want to be me for a while and I meant that, but you should know it’s the most I felt like me in a very long time. Thank you for that.’

You kiss her one last time, tasting yourself on her lips, on her tongue and you feel her fingers that moved inside you so perfectly, curling in your hair now as she urges you closer. Your hands find her hips, that jerked into your palm in a messy rhythm when you fucked her into the wall of the bathroom stall. You can’t believe the mouth that kisses you right now, soft and tender, is the same that said _gonna_ _come for me?_ , making your knees buckle just right after you did.

You rest your foreheads together and you let out a shaky exhale. ‘Don’t look back’, she says softly before she lets go of you entirely. She looks at you and her eyes say _promise me you won’t._ You simply nod.

She turns around then, leaves, and you do too. Even if you want to so badly, you don’t watch her go because you promised.

_Strangers,_ you remind yourself as you both walk into different directions and into the dark. You’re strangers that had some fun together, that’s all. It was nothing more than that.

Right?

But fuck, all those lonely nights that are yet to come, in which you know you’ll be thinking of her, your time together, the two of you together, her name would keep the memory of her alive, colourful.

And just like that,

she already starts to fade away.


	2. do you believe in fate?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your heart is sinking in the pit of your stomach at such a ferocity, that you can feel it in your bones, in your limbs, everywhere. No, that can’t be.
> 
> You feel like you’re going to throw up, your insides are tying itself in knots and your physical discomfort almost hurts. Sweat breaks out on your back and neck again and your heart starts racing in your chest. You blink.
> 
> That’s why. That’s why this didn’t feel right. You should have listened to your gut and get the hell out of here while you still had the chance to.
> 
> Oh God.
> 
> There is absolutely no fucking way you can work here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my babes and welcome to the second chapter of this fic! jamie and dani meet again, but this time under other circumstances. It's basically just jamie being a useless gay and dani being the reason for it.

Your interview at Scarlet is scheduled for Friday at 10. And really, you can’t wait for it to be over. The excitement and enthusiasm you felt when you first heard the news slowly began to dissolve into anxiety the more days passed. It started off as a feeling of concern whenever you thought about it but soon you found yourself in a constant state of nausea.

Now, that the anxiety is angrily biting at your stomach, your heart is thudding in your chest so hard you can’t make out singular beats, your back is covered in cold sweat that gives you goosebumps all over, you can’t really shake off this feeling anymore; that this here isn’t _right._

All of this, it doesn’t add up, now does it? So how come you’re here? You, a wild-life-photographer from England has a job interview at a famous women’s magazine in New York?

You can’t help the thought that crosses your mind next: What if this is all a sick joke? What if there are hidden cameras everywhere? What if you’re the victim of a tv-show that likes to pull pranks on innocent people for the sake of entertainment?

You scoff and shake your head to clear your intrusive thoughts, _this is stupid, even for you, Jamie._ You fidget with your fingers in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves and your breathing that comes in short, uneasy puffs. It’s not working. If anything it gets worse the more time is progressing.

Thirty minutes. You’re already waiting for thirty minutes for the editor-in-chief to show up for your interview. You get that someone of her status, leading a magazine, must be heading from one meeting to another, day in day out, but it never makes a good impression to be late. Doesn’t matter who it is. Owen was late on Tuesday, now _this_ Ms. Clayton as well. Are you the only one in this godforsaken country who knows how to be punctual?

You see Owen through the glass door, giving you two thumbs up from across the office, mouthing an exaggerated, _‘You got this!_ and his silly face makes you feel just a little bit more at ease. You tell yourself to breathe. _You’re okay_.

The same young man that welcomed you earlier, you assume it’s the editor-in-chief’s assistant, pops his head inside the door, giving you an apologetic smile, ‘Sorry, this is taking so long, Ms. Clayton is usually always on time. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.’

‘That’s no problem, really, got nowhere else to be’, you say, hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you feel. But even if that were to be the case he’s kind enough not to mention it. ‘You may pour yourself a cup of coffee in the meantime’, he says next, gesturing to the side-table next to the sofa in the back of the room.

You nod, mumbling a quick, ‘that’s nice, thank you’, and he’s off again and back at his desk, answering an incoming call.

You sit there in silence for another minute, running trembling fingers through your curls, contemplating whether caffeine would be a good idea in your current state. However, for the time being it would both take your mind off things. God knows _when_ Ms. Clayton will finally be here. 

Even though you’d always pick tea over coffee every day, it tastes quite alright and you even manage to not spill it, which is surprising given the shakiness of your hands. You take a sip from your cup as you stand by the huge panoramic window admiring New York’s view from this new and decidedly stunning perspective.

The glass door of the office swings open, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turn around but to your great disappointment it’s just her assistant. Again.

On the desk he puts down a pitcher with water, ice cubes and lemon wedges as well as two glasses. Under his arm he has tucked a black folder. He places it next to the stack of magazines.

Okay, him bringing water and glasses is a good sign. Means she’s on the way here? Right?

‘Ms. Clayton is quite fascinated by your work’, the assistant says with a smile, filling both of the glasses with water.

Your eyebrows quirk up, surprised by his revelation. ‘Is she?’

He nods enthusiastically, ‘Yeah, she said you might be her favourite candidate.’ He gives you a little wink, ‘But don’t tell her I told you that.’

‘Won’t tell a thing’, you say with a chuckle, feeling a bit less tense.

You finish your coffee and you put it down onto the side-table, ‘She’s not easy to impress, so I think things are looking good for you. Now you only have to convince her that you belong here.’

You smile, letting your gaze drop to the floor, blushing, ‘I will try my best, yeah.’

‘For what it’s worth, I already like you’, he admits, grinning wide. ‘But of course the decision is hers.’

You hum in understanding as you can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to be running a magazine. ‘Wouldn’t want to be in her shoes.’

He laughs a little, as he makes his way to the door, ‘Neither would I. Way too much responsibility.’ Before he leaves, he turns, smiles, ‘I’m Anthony, by the way.’

*

For the most part you don’t believe in fate. You don’t think some things are _meant_ to happen no matter what you do, because the universe has some sort of plan for you. You see life is a series of chances, you either take or don’t and choices you need to make whether you like it or not.

Of course there are little hiccups in which something happens you can’t quite explain and then you ask yourself if fate _could_ be a thing. But this, you think, this must be it _._ Because you can’t fanthom how else this should be possible.

You blink when you see _her._ You blink and she’s still there. You rub your eyes next, you know, like they do it in films when something happens that _must_ be a dream. She’s still there.

The woman you met at your favourite bar after you thought was the best day in so long and then it became the best night of your life. The woman you don’t know _anything_ of. And yet, you know what she tastes and sound and feels like. Knows the same about you, too.

And now?

Now she’s standing there in the editorial office of Scarlet magazine of all places in New York, in the world even, taking to the editor-in-chief’s assistant.

Who would have thought?

You allow yourself to take her beauty in, that is different in the dim light of the bar but beautiful all the same. In comparison to your night out, she has her blonde hair up in a neat bun. Wears not a sun dress and denim jacket, but a business outfit, blazer and skirt and all that. Not white sneakers, but black pumps matching the rest of her outfit.

You wouldn’t have pegged her for a journalist or a writer or anything of that sort. But she wasn’t herself the other night, so how could you possibly know?

She looks so damn good and you think you’d regret it until the end of your days if you don’t say hi later. Maybe you’ll say something along the lines of _fancy running in you here_ or _looks like we could be co-workers soon_ or,

_do you believe in fate?_

Okay, scratch that, that’s corny.

You don’t know what your night meant to her. And for her it might have been just a one time thing (was your idea after all). But for you... Now that you see her again, this feeling, that this has been _more,_ that feeling that has been lurking in your subconscious - it resurfaces again.

But maybe you being here would also make things strange and the last thing you’d want to do is make her uncomfortable. You’d never want that.

You don’t have the mental headspace nor the energy to pick that thought apart now. Once you’re done with this interview, you-

Well you don’t know what you will do, but you sure hope you do the right thing. Whatever that is in the end. _Fuck._

You check the time on your watch again. 45 minutes. 

This is getting ridiculous. If you wouldn’t need this job so badly, you would go and file a complaint, that’s for sure. Who thinks so highly of oneself that you’re okay with making someone else wait nearly an hour without an explaination to why?

You’d consider yourself a very patient person, but this, _this_ is bringing out the worst in you and you hate it.

Then the glass door opens and _she’s_ there _._ For a moment there your half-convinced the reason she’s here is because she’s seen you waiting in Ms. Claytons office, swinging by to say hello, saying something like _what are you doing here_ or _so we meet again._

However, none of that happens. Instead,

She is standing there rooted on the spot, her hand on the door handle as she stares at you for a moment too long. You narrow your eyes, trying to read her expression but her face gives away nothing. Nothing at all. Something’s off. _What’s going on?_

She steps inside the office then, noticing how long she’s been standing there, letting the door swing close behind her. The time it takes for the door to come to a halt takes _forever_ but then it’s barely enough to realize another thing:

From one moment to the next the world freezes and you nearly jump out of your skin, when it hits you like a train, a bus, _like a goddamn truck._

_She_ _is Ms. Clayton._

Your heart is sinking in the pit of your stomach at such a ferocity, that you can feel it in your bones, in your limbs, everywhere. No, that can’t be.

You feel like you’re going to throw up, your insides are tying itself in knots and your physical discomfort almost _hurts_. Sweat breaks out on your back and neck again and your heart starts racing in your chest. You blink.

That’s why. That’s why this didn’t feel right. You should have listened to your gut and get the hell out of here while you still had the chance to.

Oh _God_.

There is absolutely no fucking way you can work here.

*

The moment she recognizes you, the corners of her mouth curl up just the tiniest bit and in her eyes is a glint of surprise, ‘What are _you_ doing here?’, she asks in a voice that suggests that that you are simply two old friends who didn’t expect to run into the other and that you didn’t fuck each other senseless in a bathroom of a bar on a few nights ago.

Your mouth suddenly feels awfully dry and you swallow thickly around the lump in your throat, ‘I’m here for the, uh, job interview... thing?’, you say and you hate how strained it sounds.

‘Yeah, that, uh, makes totally sense. Why else would you be in my office, right?’, she remarks, giving you a crooked grin that leaves you breathless for a second. One because it is _breath-taking_ and two, because she acts as if your one-night-stand turning up at a job interview at your magazine is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

You can’t explain why she isn’t even _fazed_ by this whole thing. She’s either a really good actress _or,_ which is worse, she couldn’t care less about what happened between the two of you. You can’t ignore the sting it causes in your chest.

‘So sorry to keep you waiting. Had an important business meeting which took way longer than anticipated. I’m really glad you sticked around, means a lot. I promise to make it up to you’, she says next, giving you a wink.

You do a double take, because, _my God_ , did she really just?

You nod dumbly, watching her walk to the desk and opening the folder Anthony put there earlier. From where you’re sitting, you see it is your work, and yeah, of course it is and you remember why you’re here. Also, your useless brain likes to yell at you sometimes and now it’s this:

_Didn’t you forget something important, Taylor? Or do you plan on making this more embarrassing than it already is??_

You rise from your chair then, remembering a thing called manners and you extend your hand, introducing yourself, ‘Jamie Taylor, hi.’

Ms. Clayton stares down at your hand, confused, as if she didn’t understand what you’re up to. After a few seconds she shakes her head, sighs, ‘Of course, welcome to Scarlet, _Jamie_.’

Oh.

Nobody ever said your name like she did, _fuck_. How it rolls off her tongue so perfectly, as if she had done it so many times before. How it would have sounded when she came hard and fast on your hand. Instead it was a breathy _baby_ falling from between her lips the moment she happened. Every night since the memory of it made you so desperate to the point where you just _had to_ do something about the dull ache between your thighs.

You didn’t expect to ever see her again, so you didn’t think about how much it would mess with your head if the reason for your unsatiable hunger would stand right in front of you like she does now. You can _never_ do that again.

She shakes your hand then, ‘I’m Dani Clayton. Editor-in-chief of this magazine. Please sit’, she gestures to the chair and you look at your hand for a moment, feeling positively on fire where her fingers touched your skin.

She sits down too, taking the folder in her hands once more. You nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, wondering what’s going on in her head when she looks at your pieces. She hums, more to herself than anyone else, as she leans back in her chair, crossing her legs.

This is **_not_** the woman you met at the bar, this is not the woman you had an adventure of a lifetime with in a single night. This is Ms. Clayton, editor-in-chief of Scarlet. A whole different person, which makes you think: what of what you two had was _real_? Oh, and the person you were that other night? She isn’t here either.

‘Tell me a bit about yourself, Jamie’, Ms. Clayton says as she flicks through the folder, stopping a moment later when you don’t say anything; you seem to have forgotten how to speak. She looks up then, giving you a smile that for sure was meant to be reassuring but it makes your head spin and your skin tingle.

Thankfully, your body is playing along for once and you manage to get some words out anyway. But then, once you do you wish you had never opened your mouth at all.

‘Uh, well, you might know already, and it’s kind of the reason I- I’m here. ‘I-I’m a photographer... surprise, surprise. Born and raised in Bly, England, I graduated at the Royal College of Art in 2013. I told you my name, right, uh, it’s Jamie, in case I didn’t say, um –‘

You cut yourself off, when you realize how down-right terrible and embarrassing this and how much you’d like to sink into the ground and happily stay there forever. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself and you say, ‘You know what? This here,’ you motion between the two of you, ‘is a really bad idea. Worst idea since the invention of ideas, really. And I should probably go-‘

‘Why would you?’, she interrupts you, voice soft but determined. There’s a thin line forming on her forehead and there’s a look of incredulity appearing on her features, ‘Just because of what happened between us?’

Wow, she says it like it was _nothing._ Perhaps it was. For her. And that’s why. You regret it. You regret it so much. You regret sending that application, you regret coming here, you regret not running while you still had the chance to. You could’ve lived your life without ever knowing this version of her. You would’ve happily existed with the memory of her from that night for the rest of your days.

You don’t say anything. ‘Look Jamie, we are both grown-ups, right? Who had fun together. It was really good, not gonna to lie. But what happened... that was a one-nighter. We both know that, don’t we? I don’t think it should be a problem for us, should you happen to work here, yeah?’

_For you? Perhaps not. For me? Absolutely._

‘I’m not going to keep you if this is not what you want, obviously’, she says next and she smiles again, genuinely. ‘But we are in search of a capable, talented photographer and you seem to fit that exact description.’

You blush. The sheer amount of different emotions life throws at you today makes you wonder how much more you can take before your system overheats and you implode.

Oh and look, if that wasn’t enough, there’s something else that comes out of the blue. Haven’t expected to see you here today, _boldness_. One compliment from a beautiful woman and all you can think is: I _want_ that.

‘Hmm, how can you tell, Ms. Clayton?’, you challenge with a lopsided smirk and you can’t believe how you went from being hella flustered to... flirty?

She seems to be picking up on your bold comment, chuckles, ‘Well, I’ve seen your work, had a look at your CV and your motivational letter. I must say, you’re quite something, Jamie Taylor.’

You wonder how exactly she means that. Is it her liking your work? Or is she hinting at your night together? However, the latter one might just be wishful thinking, which doesn’t help your crush at all.

‘Well, I’m happy you like what I do’, you say in a tone, that you know makes it harder for yourself the more you let it happen. Anyway, what you want to say, if things were different, would be something like: _or what I did. To you. Because I think you liked it. You sure felt like you did._ You can’t for the love of God seem to stop yourself from having inappropriate thoughts about someone who could become your boss. You’re a total mess.

But would you even want that? Be an employee of someone you fucked? Who fucked you too? _And how good, jesus fucking christ._ You aren’t sure you can look at her, work with her, talk to her without thinking of what you did.

Doesn’t even have to be images or sounds of it, but could also be just your brain throwing things at you like: _Remember when she asked ‘is it cool if I fuck you right now?’_ Yeah, that _. Or when she shoved your hand inside her underwear when you were seconds away from coming and her husking, ‘make me come with you’._ Yep, your brain is definitely a huge dick.

‘I do, yeah’, she admits. ‘So if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue? I’d love to hear the story behind …. this one.’ She takes out one photograph, showing it to you and your delighted to see it’s one of our favourites.

You pursue your lips, deciding a bit of flirting doesn’t hurt anyone if that’s all you can have. ‘Who would I be to turn down such a request, Ms. Clayton?’

Looks like she sees it the same way, a playful smirk playing on her lips, one you’ve seen before. ‘Yeah, I wonder what else I get from you if I just ask nicely?’

Your breath hitches audibly in your throat and she grins when she sees, ‘Let’s start with an easy one: Please call me Dani, yeah?’

‘Anything you want, Dani’, you say, meaning every word. She catches her lip between her teeth, giving you a not so subtle once-over,

She hums, ‘Good to know.’

Okay, wow. Not to be dramatic or anything, but … you are absolutely _fucked_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all your lovely comments so far! it makes me happy when you enjoy. if this chapter made you feel something, feel free to yell at me in the comments about it, lol.


	3. we need to stop meeting like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You bite down on your lip when you hear her say those words, trying everything not to grin because that would’ve been a way of revealing how hard you actually crush on her.
> 
> But when you look up and see her walking over – she looks especially gorgeous today – you can’t help the smirk that appears on your face, ‘We really have to stop meeting like this’, you reply, picking up on her cocky comment. You wink and she gives you a once-over, that could easily be interpreted as challenging... or seductive.
> 
> You straighten up and bring the mug to your lips to swallow down a "we need to stop flirting like this or it’ll kill me".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, that this took so long my babes. i'm currently writing my bachelor thesis and it's straight up not going well. i blame the pandemic, lol. Anyway, read on x

The interview goes well and yet, you don’t think Dani will pick _you_ for the position as in-house photographer. The exact moment you step out of that office, you have already accepted the fact it won’t be you who she’ll call on Monday. It won’t be you who’ll be Owen’s new co-worker.

And here goes your shot a great chance at working for a famous magazine. And all because Dani and you happened to meet before, happened to spend a night together.

[A glorious night, mind-blowing sex and beautiful memories you’ll cherish _forever_.]

But it’s the exact thing that will be in your way of working at this magazine. You don’t give a job to someone you had a fling with, in order not to make things unnecessarily complicated.

If it happened to be more than just a one-nighter, you make sure not to hire said person, because that wouldn’t look good, now would it. Not on you, nor on her. _Ah, so you only got the job because she **likes** you. Is that how things work if Ms. Clayton fancies someone? _

You reason, that _if_ she were to choose you, then it would be because she truly likes your work, seriously thinks you are the right fit for the magazine. You are her favourite. That’s what she said. But that’s before she knew who you were.

*

In the end it’s _you_. You get the job.

And you have absolutely no clue what you’re supposed to do with that.

*

You have your first official meeting with the team, a week after your interview. You still haven’t found out what all of this means: you being here, you working for her, even though you two -- Anyway, you’re determined to get to the bottom of it. Besides, you absolutely need this job.

She introduces you to the team that morning, ‘Please, give a hearty welcome to our new photographer, Jamie.’ A couple of _hi Jamie’s_ fill the air and you smile awkwardly, not used to having 20 pair of eyes on you at once. ‘We’re so happy to finally have you here’, Dani says, her eyes catching yours in a fleeting moment. A tug of lips. And that’s all it took for you to believe that she means it.

‘A 10 minute pitch’, Dani had said over the phone a few days ago, when she told you the news. You had a hard time focusing on her words because her voice makes you feel all warm inside and you knew from that moment on that should you took that job, it wouldn’t be easy on you. And not just because you like her voice. ‘Tell the team a bit about yourself, about your career as photographer. Let them get to know you, _Jamie_.’

The way she says your name, never fails to make you all weak in the knees and every time it happens you want to slap yourself in the face, because _you can’t have her._ She made it clear that whatever happened between you two is in the past now and you might as well get over your stupid little crush.

You figure that facts and milestones in your life and career would only annoy your new colleagues, and you wouldn’t want to talk them to sleep, so, you decide to turn this into some sort of _story-time_ instead _._

You walk up to the front with a chunk of fake-confidence, opening your file. Once the chatter in the room subsided and you get your team’s undivided attention, you start your pitch with this:

‘The way I see it photography is a lot like life itself. To be ready is one thing, to wait is another. But to seize the right moment is everything.’

You press the button on your remote and it reveals _the photo_ of the squirrel you took all those years ago. It’s blurry – because your hands were so shaky – and only half of the squirrel is to be seen – because you pressed the button a nano second too late. You grin. ‘And that my friends, is not how it’s done.’

It earns you a ripple of laughter and an amused headshake from Owen. He knows this story all too well ‘However, that’s how it began… with an Eastern squirrel in my backyard in Bly, England, my dad’s old camera and the acceptance letter of _Royal Art of London_ in the back pocket of my jeans. And here’s the rest of the journey…’

You tell them about how you learned how technique isn’t worth anything if one doesn’t _feel_ it. The photographer needs to form some sort of connection with the object in front of the camera, for it to be real. And if it’s just a look that unravels you, an emotion you share, a story that touches you deep down.

You tell them how you had a hard time figuring out who you are, who you want to be and how photography helped you to create a story for yourself you failed to put in words.

You tell them how you realized that taking an image, freezing a moment is more real than reality itself, because you capture something _in time_ forever.

All the while you talk your new colleagues listen attentively, nod when they get what you are saying, smile and laugh when you crack another joke. Ask questions, too, which allow you to explain your work in more depth, allow you to highlight the most important facts. You complete your presentation with a playful smirk, ‘And just remember: when your life gets blurry, just adjust your focus.’

The team gives you a round of applause then, someone is cheering _welcome to Scarlet, Jamie,_ another is calling _can I have your number_ and Owen whistles, ‘that’s my best friend, y’all!’ You blush heavily under the attention and you try to mask it with a sip of your water. Only now you realize how dry your throat has become from all the talking.

And because of _Dani_. The mere thought of her being in the room, her listening to you, her looking at you -- You’re so far gone, aren’t you?

You dare to look at Dani for the first time since the start of your pitch – you couldn’t _during_ because it would’ve completely thrown you off – and she just stands there, arms crossed and gaze on the floor and a lip caught between her teeth as if trying to hide a smile. And it’s almost as if, for a fraction of a second you see the real her, but then,

‘Alright everybody’, she says, clasping her hands together to draw the attention to herself. ‘Back to your desks. The newest issue doesn’t make it by itself.’ She chuckles and you think, _fuck_ , is it cute. ‘Doesn’t matter how hard we try.’

*

You don’t really have time to familiarize yourself with the new work environment or the other members of your team. Or what it even means to be a photographer for a magazine; so you can _invent_ this part of you. Already on your second day you’re thrown in at the deep end.

‘It’s not getting better’, Dani complains, looking at the cover picture of the upcoming issue on the wall in the editorial office. Each page is attached individually to a board, so the sequence of the topics can be changed easily until satisfied. She taps with the end of her pen lightly onto the surface, clearing her throat. ‘Now I know why I fired him.’

‘You fired him because he wronged you, not because he’s necessarily bad at his job’, Owen points out, and you make a note on asking him about his former co-worker and find out more about onto why someone would ever mistreat Dani. ‘Although – might be the reason why you don’t like it.’

She nods, rubbing her forehead. ‘Do you think we could re-do it in time for the next release? If we contact the agency today, we could set up the photoshoot for tomorrow.’ Dani pauses, intaking sharply. Her eyes flit around the room in search of something, _someone._ When her eyes ultimately they land on _you_ , you hold your breath. ‘Jamie, you’re our last hope. You need to fix this. _Please_.’

You blink. ‘I- uh, I guess. Yeah, I can do-do that?’, you stammer, taken a bit aback by Dani’s request.

[By the time they hired you the newest issue was almost ready to be printed, save for a few moderations. And, when the next is in the planning stage, there would be enough time for you accustom yourself with your new job. You would start small, figure things out one by one. But now, it seems like Dani has other plans with you.]

At the same time you feel flattered that she thinks _Jamie_ when to trying to find a solution to this problem. Knowing _your_ name crosses _her_ mind is enough for you.

You straighten your back as you run hand through your curls--

[there’s a _twinkle_ in her eyes now and her lips part ever so slightly, as if she remembers how she pulled on your hair when she husked _yes, right there_.]

\--trying to collect yourself, and you nod. Best to get your head in the game if you want to do this right. ‘Let’s do this.’

_*_

As it turns out it the reason why Dani didn’t like the cover-photo wasn’t only because if was made by your predecessor, but also because there’s absolutely no _spark_ in the model’s way of carrying herself. There’s no _soul_ in her eyes. No _life_ in her performance. How are you supposed to capture something that isn’t there? Yes, you might be out of practice, but you know how it’s done, and well, she...doesn’t.

You grow more and more frustrated, _what a great start,_ and you groan, ‘Sorry, but I can’t work like this.’ You say it more to yourself than to her, but Zoey gets the message, when you set your camera down and rub your eyes.

‘I’m really sorry that I waste your time. Got a bad day’, the model hurries to explain herself, fidgeting with her fingers, ‘more of a bad week or month, but whatever.’ She gives you an apologetic look, before letting her gaze fall onto the floor in shame.

You nod in understanding. ‘Look. Let’s take a break, alright? Go get a breath of fresh air, have a snack and in half an hour we try again, alright?’, you suggest, not minding a pause yourself. Zoey agrees with a bashful smile and makes her way to the dressing room, where the stylist assistant will help her out of her outfit.

In the kitchen you’re surprised when you find a bunch of earl grey tea bags in the cupboard. And some biscuits in a tin labelled O. Sharma. _Thank god for Owen,_ you think, filling the mug with hot water and taking a bite of your _cookie,_ as the yanks would say. Making tea like that won’t compare to the traditional way, but it’ll do. You add a splash of milk to your tea, inhaling the familiar scent of _home -_ well, almost – and you dip your biscuit into the tea. 

All the while you think about how you can help the model give you what you want. What you’ll have to do to _re-ignite_ her spark, feed her _soul,_ give her _life_. What can you do so she can temporary forget what’s going on in her life so she can focus on the job? Because at the end of the day you need to deliver. Both of you.

You lean heavily onto the kitchen counter on her elbows, cradling your mug in your hands, while you wait for your brain to come up with something. Anything.

What comes instead is a _fancy seeing you here_ , from a voice you’d recognize everywhere and anytime.

You bite down on your lip when you hear her say those words, trying everything not to grin because that would’ve been a way of revealing how hard you actually crush on her.

[because scratch _stupid little crush._ Who are you trying to fool?]

But when you look up and see her walking over – she looks especially gorgeous today – you can’t help the smirk that appears on your face, ‘We really have to stop meeting like this’, you reply, picking up on her cocky comment. You wink and she gives you a once-over, that could easily be interpreted as challenging... or seductive.

You straighten up and bring the mug to your lips to swallow down a _we need to stop flirting like this or it’ll kill me._

‘Mind if I – uh, take a sip of your tea?’, she asks next, nodding her head to the mug in your hands.

‘I can make you a cuppa, if you want?’, you suggest, but she just shakes her head, gives you a half-smile, ‘Just want to try.’

And you realize if she does, then her lips will touch where yours did and you don’t think you can handle that. And then yours touch where hers did and it would somehow be like a --

‘If you ever fancy a real tea, you could always come back to my place and I show you how it’s done’, you say, damn well knowing how that sounds. You can’t seem for the life of yours holding back your flirty remarks when it comes to her. _Shit._

What you want to say, but don’t is: _I could show you so many more things while we’re at it._

‘Maybe, I’ll take you up on that’, she challenges. Dani takes the tea from your hand, and, while doing so her fingers graze yours and you realize that’s the first time she touched you since that night-

[Well apart from that handshake, but that wasn’t _her._ That was Ms. Clayton. This here, however, is so very much Dani. As far as you can tell.] 

She hums as she tries, her eyes slipping close at the taste and you watch her intently, wondering how a single _mhm_ can that be so erotic. You swallow down hard, so you don’t say something stupid, something like _mind if I try it from **your** lips now? _

You avert her eyes at the thought, trying to get your shit together. But then she speaks again, and everything goes to waste. You _need_ to find out how to get this under control.

‘Reminds me of the time where I was an au-pair in London. Always had afternoon tea with the kids I looked after.’

‘Oh, I didn’t know you have been to England before.’

You want face-palm yourself, because of course you don’t. You don’t know anything about her or her past. When you two met you decided to remain _strangers_ and quite frankly, you didn’t think you’d ever see her again.

And now, now she’s your boss and well. It’s not very likely you’ll to get to know her in that kind of depth. If only things were different.

She doesn’t seem to notice your silly comment and carries on, ‘London holds a special place in my heart, you know. I found myself in London, re-invented parts of me and finally became who I was supposed to be _._ A love story if you will. _’_

She smiles at the memory and you wish you were _there_. Before you can say _please, tell me more,_ she looks at her watch and mutters, ‘Ah, it’s about time I get to that meeting... Sometimes I think this is what my personal hell must be like. A never ending cycle of meetings.’

She lets out a low chuckle, but it sounds exhausted and fed up and you can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like. Dani takes another drink of your tea, then hands it back you, ‘I think this, Jamie, belongs to you. I see tea making is another thing you’re good at.’

_Oh._

She flashes you a wink before rushing out of the room and to her meeting, entirely missing the way you nearly choke on air at that. 

*

After your break things go significantly better with Zoey. Great even. You plan on asking her later what the hell happened in those thirty minutes that caused this 180 degree shift in her mood. And if you can have some of it too.

She does her job spectacularly, offering you different poses, a wide range of facial expressions.

Her dark coily curls are framing her chocolate skin perfectly, her eyes are telling entire stories with one single look and her plum lips are a dream. The yellow dress hugs her in all the right places, but it’s not the dress itself, but the way she wears it that is _magical_ and you are in complete awe with her.

It’s almost as if she’s a whole new person.

The amount of times the shutter-button on your camera clicks, makes you dimly aware how hard it’ll be to pick out the one photo to go with for the cover. You ask yourself if Dani cares for your opinion on that matter when you tell her what shot would fit the best.

‘And this is our studio where we hold most of the photoshoots for the magazine.’ _Speak of the devil. Or think, in that case._ Your turn your head and see Dani with a couple of men in suit and tie following hot on her heels. ‘This is our newest member of the team, Jamie Taylor, in-house photographer’, Dani explains, as they walk over to the set. Ah, investors.

You nod your head in greeting – unsure if you should shake their hands but you decide against it – before bringing back the camera to your face and continuing your job. But it’s hard to focus now that they’re here, that _she’s here_ , watching you work. Even though it makes you very much self-aware you try not to think about it and concentrate on the task at hand instead. You tell yourself just to pretend as if they aren’t there.

You give Zoey a couple of instructions, _put a hand in your hair_ and _now look at me;_ you compliment her when she does it right, _yeah, that’s it_ and _you’re doing amazing, sweetheart._

After a few final shots you’re fairly certain that the perfect shot is among them and you scroll through the photos on the computer-screen. It’s nearly 400 photos, it’s going to be hard to find the one. ‘How’s it looking?’, Dani asks next. You look at her over your shoulder, ‘If you want to have a quick look at the outcome, feel free to do so after your meeting.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t, got another meeting after this one. But I’d like to check it out now-, ‘she turns to face the investors, ‘- If you don’t mind? Would be just a moment.’

After a collective shake of the head of the investors, she quickly makes her way to you. She smiles and you melt like ice-cream in the summer sun. Once there you select a few of your favourites and taking a step aside so Dani can look at it. After a few moments you ask, ‘So what do you think? Is it what you imagined?’

Dani nods, eyes still glued to the screen, ‘Better even, Jamie… I mean, I expected you to be good, but this here, this here is... brilliant.’ You blush.

‘I once read that the most important tool of photography isn’t the camera, but the photographer and I didn’t know how much that is true, until you.’

But you shake your head, wave your hand dismissively, ‘Nah, I’m just doing my job.’

She glances over at you now, admiration glistening in her eyes, ‘Really, I mean it.’

You open your mouth, close it again. You want to say: _Zoey’s been doing a remarkable job as well. It’s not just me._ You want to say: _why are you making this so hard for me?_

But Dani just smiles, ‘Upload them to the cloud for me, please? I’ll have a look at it later tonight.’

A soft hand’s finding the small of your back; you have to repress a shiver at the contact. You almost don’t register her saying _glad we picked you. we couldn’t wish for anyone better,_ because your heart is beating too loud to hear anything else but.

And then she’s gone, leaving you once again completely and utterly devastated.

*

Once the photoshoot is wrapped up and the files are uploaded, you write her an e-mail with the words:

_Dani,_

_You’ll find the photographs in: Scarlet > September issue > Feature_Story > Photoshoot_Cover_

_Just in case you want my personal opinion, there’s an extra folder with my favourites._

_I hope I could “fix” the problem. Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with._

_\- Jamie_

You shut down your computer and pack your stuff, surprised when you realize you’re the last to leave tonight. You head to the elevator when there’s a new notification on your smartphone. It’s from Dani.

_Thanks again, Jamie. You’re really going God’s work here. Will take into consideration your favourites, too. But seriously, can you believe **that’s** how I’ll spend my night? _

You want to write: _Looks like it. If you need help with picking the one to go with, you know where to find me._

What you do write is: _Ah, yes, I reckon there are truly better ways to spend a night. Might know a few things._

You shake your head as you laugh to yourself, thinking that there’s absolutely no way you can send that. Your thumb hovers over the delete-button when the elevator-door opens in the garage. You’re still contemplating whether to send it or not, because yes you’ve been flirting, but this definitely oversteps the line.

You exit the elevator, eyes still fixed on your screen, still really _wanting_ to send that message, when you bump into someone else. You flinch.

You mumble an apology, squeezing past the person, who just replies with a rude _look where you’re walking_ but you can’t bring yourself to care. You take your keys out of your backpack, and, once you unlocked your car, you know that you absolutely cannot send that massage. 

Right, when you want to delete the message and replace it with a new one, you see it: _e-mail sent at 7:31pm._ You must’ve accidentally sent it when you bumped into –

Shit.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep calm. ‘Nothing, that can’t be fixed. I’ll just send another mail with you could read a book or binge-watch some Netflix instead’ _,_ you voice out loud. Your message doesn’t have to be seen as a flirty remark, could just be a friend looking out for another.

Except, you aren’t friends.

Just when you’re about to hit send, there pops up a text from an unknown number. When you read it you know immediately who it’s from.

_Best not to talk about this over e-mail._

[Ah, she read it exactly the way you meant it. Damn it.]

And then: _tell me more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are the salt to my fries, so keep 'em coming. also, I need friends. text me on tumblr, pls. @thegardenerandtheaupair


	4. you leave me starved with one look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Fuck'
> 
> ‘If you’re saying that, make sure you add me.’
> 
> Your breath hitches in your throat and thank god you’re lying down because you would’ve fainted. Holy shit, did she really say that?
> 
> And the words spill out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, ‘Would that mean fuck me as in you fuck me or in I fuck you?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is very NSFW. So will be the next 2 chapters, let's see if there will be any plot at all. Read on, my dudes.

When she sent you a text with _best not to talk about this over e-mail_ you fully expected Dani to put you in your place. Tell you that you can’t do that. Ask what the hell has gotten into you.

Something like: _I’m still your superior, Jamie, and you’re my employee. Don’t push things too far, alright?_

The only reason she wouldn’t do this over e-mail is because she respects you enough to handle this the informal way. You were already piecing yourself together an apology and were ready to beg for a chance to explain it.

Something like: _Sorry, that was incredibly inappropriate. I don’t know what on earth possessed me to write that._

But then she said _tell me more_ and you have no idea what to do with that.

[to put it simple: you haven’t thought of getting that far. All it was meant to be was a flirty remark.]

[to put it even simpler: you didn’t assume she would bite.]

*

You pull out of the garage with your smartphone on the co-driver’s seat, the small notification-light blinking. You didn’t have the guts to open the message all the way and now you tap onto the steering wheel, trying to come up with an answer. You try to ignore the blinking until you can’t anymore, because it’s a reminder, _text her back,_ and you throw your phone into your backpack again.

She can’t possibly _mean_ what she said. 

What if she’s just testing you? If that’s the case, then you elaborating what you intended with your statement would be like digging your own grave.

What if it’s not her who sent that message? She has your number from your application documents, but she never gave you hers. So how can you know it is really Dani?

What if someone else is trying to sabotage your career at Scarlet? Before you even had a chance to prove yourself worthy? And that someone is now gathering evidence?

You shake your head, pushing away your delusional thoughts into the back of your head as you mutter to yourself, ‘Now that would truly be fucked up.’

*

However, there’s one thing that doesn’t make sense, no matter how often you replay it in your head.

_‘But what happened... that was a one-nighter. We both know that, don’t we?’_

You remember exactly how she said it on the day of your interview. You remember exactly how she looked like when she did. If it really didn’t mean anything, like she said, then why would she flirt as if she wants to jump into bed with you every damn time she sees you? God, you hate mixed signals.

You nearly cross a red light as you drive home, _almost_ run over a pedestrian and missed not one but two exits. And you don’t know how but it’s a waking-call of some sort and you make a choice.

There is only one way to find out what it is that she wants from you: You’ll have to talk to her.

When you park your car on the side of the road you press the call-button next to her name before you can think better of it. As you wait for the connection to be established, you realize how collected you seem to be. Calm breaths, normal heart-rate, no nervous ticks.

But something deep down tells you it’s just the calm before the storm.

And well, you turn out to be right. The moment she picks up your world tilts sideways.

‘Hey there.’

Your heart does a somersault when you hear Dani’s lovely voice on the other end. She kind of sounds like she knew you’d call. You clear your throat as you try to keep your emotions in check, ‘Hey, sorry, I- uh ... didn’t mean to send that message. It was an… accident.’

You screw your eyes shut and clench your jaw when you understand how that must sound like. You should’ve thought about want you want to say before you called. 

You decide you can’t just sit here in the dark of your car while you talk this out. So you grab your belongings and push the door open.

Dani hums thoughtfully, doesn’t say anything for a long moment and then: ‘You didn’t mean to send that, you say?’

You lock your car, shoulder your backpack and make your way to the front door, fidgeting with your keys in your hand. ‘Yeah.’

You worry your lip between your teeth, while you wait for her to say something.

‘Well, that raises the question why it is that you typed it in the first place?’

_Yeah, why did you Jamie?_

Her voice doesn’t give away a thing. Nothing at all. Oh, what you’d give to see her face right now, so you’d at least have an idea what’s going on in that beautiful head of hers.

You’re convinced the only right thing to do now is to be honest with her. You really don’t want to hide from the truth. Because really, that’s where things go wrong.

You slot the key to your flat into the lock and turn it. You try to sound as unaffected as you can, even though your nerves run havoc under your skin. ‘Ah, you know, just my brain, sometimes. Doesn’t function properly with you around, I guess.’

‘And how is that?’, comes her next question. Always in the same even and calm voice.

You kick off your boots and discard them somewhere at the front door along with your jacket. You’ll take care of that later.

‘Oh, pretty annoying if you ask me’, you reply with a shrug as you throw your keys into the bowl on the kitchen table, ‘Switches automatically to flirt-mode when it comes to you. Without me having a say in that matter.’

You smile to yourself as you unpack your bag with your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder. You open your note-book, remove the sticky-note with your to do list on onto the fridge. ‘Brains, am I right? Sometimes they forget how to do ... brain-stuff.’

She laughs a little,

[side note: it sounds super fucking adorable and you want to hear more of it]

and your movements still because you don’t exactly trust the moment yet, but then,

‘I must say, I quite like your flirty brain. Especially because it seems to be compatible with mine’, Dani retorts, and you and you can’t help the grin that breaks out on your face. _Gotcha._

‘I agree with you on that one’, you admit as you walk over to the sink. You rinse your water bottle before you place it upside down onto a kitchen cloth next to it for it to dry.

‘Even though, I really enjoy flirting with you, Jamie, there are so many other things we should be doing instead’, she teases, and you think _oh, we’d never run out of things to do._ You wipe down your wet fingers on your jeans before bringing your hand up to your phone again.

‘And what would that be, Dani?’, you ask, trying to match the teasing quality in her voice. You make your way to the bedroom, wanting to change into more comfortable clothes. ‘Yeah, what would that be?’, Dani challenges.

You don’t say anything as you undo your belt and shuck off your denims. She hums, ‘Oh, you know ... things like picking the perfect location for the new feature-story or planning the October issue’, she pauses right there and you know, _now it comes,_ ‘Or, something else entirely. Maybe, if you’re interested, you could always show me “truly different ways to spend a night”? What do you say to that?

Oh.

You’re painfully aware how awfully dry your throat is, making the next swallow difficult, ‘So you meant it when you said _tell me more_.’ It sounds even crazier now that you say it out loud.

‘Mhm-mm.’

The jeans falls from your hand in shock, the belt buckle hitting the floor with a _clank;_ it’s deafening in the silence of the room.

The moment it sinks in, you feel heat pooling between your legs. Before you know it, your fingers are pressing against damp cotton, and you wouldn’t believe it if it wasn’t happening right now. ‘ _Fuck_.’

She laughs a little, and you think it’s unfair how confident it sounds. You let yourself fall onto the mattress and you remove your hand from between your legs again, resting it on your thigh instead. 

‘If you’re saying that, make sure you add _me_.’

Your breath hitches in your throat and thank god you’re lying down because you would’ve fainted. Holy shit, did she really say that?

And the words spill out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, ‘Would that mean _fuck me_ as in you fuck me or in I fuck you?’

The answer comes right away,

‘Both.’ A pause. ‘Well… if you’re lucky.’

Her voice is thick with arousal and it fucks with your head. You open your mouth to say something, but you close it again, when you realize that your mind has gone completely blank. Dani takes a deep breath and you hold yours.

‘There’s more to it, but I want to tell you that when I see you again. I’m out of town for a few days, let’s talk when I come back?’

‘Why can’t you say it now?’, you ask, when you finally find your voice again. You’re not sure you can wait that long. Not now, anyway.

‘No, I can’t...Because I want to do this right, Jamie. You deserve that’, Dani confesses and you believe her. ‘You deserve _so much_.’

*

You don’t sleep well that night. You toss and turn, slip in and out of dreams. You are dreaming about her again, the same way you did the night when you first met, but now she has a _name_ and it’s colourful and it’s warm and it’s soul-stirring.

You are dreaming about her but sometimes it’s black-and-white and it’s heavy on your heart and you can’t explain it. You wake again.

You count numbers in your head to bore your brain to sleep but soon the numbers form into the letters of her name. Just when you’re about to give up, sleep takes over. This time it’s dreamless and somehow that’s worse.

*

It’s Monday and you haven’t heard from Dani in almost four days. She’s on a seminar on feminism, gender and sexuality with Molly and John in Miami and you have no clue when she comes back.

It’s Monday and you still wait for Dani to reach out to you. After your talk last week it seemed the right thing to do. There isn’t much to be said, when there’s something else between the two of you that needs to be taken care of first. You were _so_ close to texting her _miss you_ and _hope you’re having fun,_ but it felt out of place, so you deleted the messages again.

It’s Monday and you spend most of your day in the equipment room of the studio re-organizing the photography gear by digital cameras, lenses and lens filters, tripods and flashes, memory cards and batteries. Partly because your predecessor has absolutely no nense of order and partly because you’d like to get an idea of what exactly is at your disposal. But mainly you do it because it keeps you from thinking about Dani too much.

You haven’t found out what system you’ll go with, so first you organize items by serial numbers, then by product names, then by category and ultimately, by personal liking. You figure that’s the one thing that fits best.

Just when you’re about to change the song to _You’re Somebody Else_ by flora cash - it’s been playing on repeat the last days - you see there’s a new notification. A sudden flare of joy overcomes you when you see who it’s from _._

It reads: _Back in NY. When can I see you? Reeeeally need to talk to you._

You feel butterflies in your stomach when you read those words, but you ignore it and type out a reply, ‘ _Whenever you want. But as long as I’m on the clock, you’d have to clear that with my superior first.’_ You add a winking emoji for good measure.

Dani texts back right away, _I don’t think she will mind if I steal you away for a few minutes._ At the end of her message she put the smirking emoji.

And then: _I was thinking we could talk now?_

You don’t even have to think about it twice, _Sure._ _Come find me?_

You take a quick selfie with the clipboard in your hand, a pen behind your ear and the metal shelves in the background. You look at the photo – a playful grin playing at your lips, your hair in a mix between styled and messy, a black tee that reveals the toned muscles of your upper arms - and you you hesitate a moment. You are not sure, whether you are already at the selfie stage of your relationship, but then you remember your conversation from a couple nights ago and you think _fuck it_ as you hit send.

Dani’s reply comes only seconds after. _You can’t do that._

You bite the corner of your lip, pretending you don’t know what she’s talking about, _do what?_

You watch the three moving dots and then, _make me forget what I want to say to you._

You smile, thinking, _I could make you forget your own name if you asked me to,_ but it’s too much, too early and you don’t even know what it is that she wants from you.

Instead you reply with this: _What do you mean? I didn’t do anything._

You let out a shaky breath when you read her next text, _Oh, if you only knew, Jamie._

You tell yourself to be brazen, to take the leap, _I sure hope you tell me. Or show me, for that matter._

You chew at the inside of your cheek as you turn up the volume and shove your phone back into your pocket. Whenever you send risky texts, you put your phone away and do something else, not being able to look at the screen and wait.

*

Not a minute later, the door opens and you jump, quickly taking out your airpods.

It’s Dani and _god_ does she look cute. She wears an oversized pastel-pink colored sweatshirt, tight black leggins with three white vertical stripes on the sides, a grey beanie, pearl-white sneakers and a fanny-pack.

‘Hey, you’, you say, surprised that she really meant when she said now _._ She closes the door behind her with a soft click and you can’t help but smile at her. ‘Didn’t expect to see you _this_ soon.’

She beams back, casually leaning against the door, and it takes everything in you not to walk over and hug her so tight she hits you when needing oxygen. ‘I might or might have not walked faster than usual to get here.’

You plop your earphones back into the case and pausing the song that is currently playing. No song could ever compare to the lovely sound of her voice. ‘Oh, you did? Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?’, you note, not even trying to hold back.

She shakes her head, giving you a serious look, ‘Honestly? No. I came straight from the airport. And I take no shame in that’, she says with a soft chuckle. ‘That’s why I don’t look like I normally would when I’m here’, she points out, nodding at her outfit.

‘I don’t like that style on you any less’, you admit with a cheeky grin, slowly bridging the distance. ‘Looks really fucking gay if you ask me.’

Dani giggles, re-adjusting her beanie and you think it’s the most adorable she ever looked. ‘Yeah, it’s a nice change from all those business outfits and pumps and such. They can be a real pain.’

Suddenly her smile falters and her eyes drop onto the floor. She intakes sharply, steeling herself, ‘Listen, I really need to get something off my chest. And it _absolutely_ can’t wait anymore.’

You take a deliberate step back, giving her space to think and air to breathe. When she looks up again, you smile reassuringly at her. ‘Let’s hear it then.’

Your heart hammers violently against your ribcage and if Dani would place her hand right there on your chest, she’d be able to feel it. And your legs feel numb as if you had spent hours in front of your TV playing _Life is Strange._

She nods and she reaches out for your hand and you take hers in yours, brushing the pad of your thumb over her knuckles. It’s the longest you touched her since the night you first met and you _never ever_ want to let go again.

She stares onto your intertwined hands for a moment and you lift her chin gently so she looks at you. ‘My eyes are up here, love’, you whisper and Dani rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, that’s kind of the issue here. I’d fail to remember what I want to say.’

‘I wouldn’t want that. After you came all that way from Miami just to talk to me’, you offer, trying to break the tension in the room with air so thick one could cut it.

‘It’s okay’, you say next. ‘You don’t have to look at me, just… say what you want to say.’

She clears her throat, nods, ‘I want to get straight to the point -- I’m sure you know already, but I don’t want our night to stay a one-time-thing. I knew that the moment I’ve seen you again. If I’m being honest with myself I knew the moment we parted ways by the river that it was a mistake letting you go. I never knew _regret_ until this very day.’

She exhales shakily, and you can sense how hard it must be for her to come clean. You swallow your own feelings down because this, right now, is not about you. You squeeze her hand gently, ‘Keep going.’

‘The universe plays wicked games sometimes, you know’, Dani continues, her voice slightly steadier than before. ‘She was like: okay, yeah, I let you see her again, but only under one circumstance: I make her the best photographer Scarlet has ever seen. Leaves you no other choice, but to give her that job.’

You nod because things are finally starting to make sense.

‘And when I told you it was just a one-nighter, it was actually me trying to convince _myself_ there’s no way that it is happening again. I knew I couldn’t have both. And I _really_ thought I could do it, but I underestimated the effect you’d have on me.’

Dani looks up and her eyes are _dark_ and her lips are slightly parted and you try and fail to stop staring, ‘What effect do I have on you?’, you ask with a voice that isn’t yours.

Her gaze drops to your lips how too, and you’d notice if you weren’t busy doing the exact same thing, ‘ _Jamie_ , you leave me starved with one look.’

‘I- what?’, you stammer, your brain having difficulties to keep up.

‘You’re doing it again’, she points out and you can’t seem to follow her. She clenches her eyes shut, muttering, ‘Oh, this is becoming a serious problem.’

You still don’t know what she means but you seem to understand what she wants, and something snaps within you,

‘I might be able to solve that problem.’

*

Dani sinks her teeth lightly into her bottom lip and her eyes are fluttering open again, revealing once more those beautiful, _beautiful_ blue eyes and you feel like your feet barely touch the ground.

You flash her a lopsided smile and you hear yourself saying, ‘Could do that _right now_. If that is what you want.’

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip experimentally, just to see how she reacts. Somehow this is costing her the last bit of restraint, and she mutters, ‘Oh, fuck me’, before grabbing you at your shirt and smashing her lips on yours.

It’s pure, unadulterated pleasure, it’s hungry and it’s desperate and it’s raw. It’s absolutely graceless, but it’s real, so _real_. And before you know it you are kissing her back, with all that you are, with all that you’ll ever be. You’re unable to pull away and if anything, you kiss her deeper, more passionately.

Faintly, you remember that article you read about dopamine, a neurotransmitter associated with feelings of desire and reward, produced in the same part of the brain that is affected by drugs. And that’s why _this_ is so addictive.

And you think you could soak in all that she is forever and still be right there, still wanting more.

You slam her against the wall, and she lets out a surprised _hmph_ and you smile against her lips. ‘Really missed -- the way you… taste’, she admits, her voice breaking a little. ‘It’s so _you_.’ You chuckle, gently tilting her head to the side and you duck in, trailing hot kisses along her neck. You nibble softly, careful not leave any marks, and hands finds their way into your curls, tugging lightly. 

And you think, it might be a way of her saying _more._ You graze your teeth across the flesh, right there, to test your theory and she gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair. _Oh, she just likes when you use your teeth._ You let out a low moan from the back of her throat at the sensation and already now, you can hardly contain your own arousal.

‘I think I could get drunk on this’, she moans into your hair, when you move your head to the other side, biting soft enough to leave a bright-red indent, that will be gone in a matter of minutes, dragging the tip of your tongue up her neck to soothe the light sting, ‘From you-- kissing me like that.’

You whisper against the shell of her ear, ‘I _think,_ I could make you high as well.’ You pull back to gauge her reaction, and her eyes are _ablaze_ when she realizes what you’re hinting at, and she nods, ‘ _Please_.’

*****

And then she takes your hand and shoves it inside her leggings, ‘Need you _now.’_ And you can only nod as you move lower, dipping your fingers between the junction of her thighs. You are instantly met with Dani’s slick heat, and you can’t help the groan that escapes your lips at the feeling of it. You almost miss the how she swears _fuck_ under her breath when you first touch her.

You slide your fingertips along her length, relishing the way she moves against you, when the rhythm starts, and she holds onto your arms, her fingers flexing when you go a bit faster. She gasps, ‘Oh my -- this feels so f-fucking good.’

She moans softly into your mouth, aware that she can’t be much louder given the situation you find yourselves in, and somehow, it’s the fact that she tries holds back that does it for you.

‘I’m -- uh, not gonna last long’, she manages to get out between laboured breaths, and you kiss her lips softly, ‘That’s okay...don’t hold back, yeah?’

She shakes her head, ‘Couldn’t -- even if I wanted to.’

She’s so _wet_ you can hear it, the way your fingers move in circles, then down, up and down again and _in_. And when she bites down onto her knuckles to muffle a desperate whine, you think you might collapse. ‘Really want to watch you come, baby’, you say, gently tugging at her bottom lip.

_‘Please,_ Jamie, make me come’, she begs and how could you ever deny her a thing?

With your free hand, you snatch down her leggings along with her underwear, just far enough to give your fingers more room to work, and you enter her again with one more only a moment later, curling them in a fashion you think she might like, and she _whimpers,_ ‘Mhm, yes.’

She starts rocking onto your hand, searching more friction, more pressure, and you understand the silent plea, and you add another finger, and she husks, ‘Oh, _God_ , I can feel you filling me up.’ And that sentence alone almost kills you on the spot.

You flick your thumb over her clit as you go, pressing into her _harder_ and she rasps your name into the air. Now her breaths are becoming shorter and more shallow and you know she’s on the finish line.

And now you regret you are doing this _here_ because you’d like to hear how good you make her feel, would like to see all of her, and in turn she can see all of you, feeling what she does to you, when she finally touches you _there._

Her legs start shaking and her nails dig into your flesh, and you need to hold her up, afraid she might topple over if you don’t. She mumbles a quiet and desperate _i’m close_ and you knew before she told you _._ Although you can’t have all of her, you know you can have this:

You bite at her chin, murmuring, ‘Will you look at me when you come?’

And Dani gives you a loose nod; she can’t seem to do any more than that and her eyes slipping closed one last time, while she hunts down that release. You keep doing what you’re doing, thrusting her fingers relentlessly, circling your thumb on her clit at the same time in a pace that’ll send her over the edge in a matter of seconds.

When she opens her eyes, catches yours, you see the exact moment her orgasm hits, her pupils dilating with lust as the wave of pleasure overtakes her. She comes with your name on her lips, all over your hands and you fuck her right through it. Every drop of her pleasure is yours, and you don’t stop, _I’ll stop when she pushes my hand away,_ but she doesn’t, and then she whispers, ‘Keep going. Gonna come -- again.’

Even though it’s almost too much for you to take, you continue, then faster, then harder, and she comes exactly that way only moments after. Your hand clasps over her mouth, muffling a moan that sure would’ve been audible down the hallway. She slumps back onto the wall, spent and panting heavily, and only then, you withdraw your fingers.

You look at your fingers that are covered in Dani’s arousal and you desperately want to suck them clean and taste her, but you hesitate and Dani chuckles as she sees, putting your fingers in her own mouth instead. She twirls her tongue around each finger, licking gently, never breaking eye-contact and you think it’s hands down the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

‘Does that… solve your problem?’, you ask, voice small, when Dani releases the last finger with a _plop_.

She hums, nods. ‘But now I happen to have to deal with another.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are the sour cream to my potato wedges x please leave one, yeah? x


	5. meet me in my office later?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘No, seriously, Jamie, I very much like-- your idea.’
> 
> By the end of her sentence her voice breaks a little. And as far as you know, it’s a tell-tale sign that she’s—
> 
> No. that can’t be.
> 
> And yet,
> 
> ‘That’, she whispers against the shell of your ear as she moves closer, ‘and your fingers. Can’t even look at them without wishing they were inside of me. They’re. Really. Fucking. Distracting.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i decided we're still going to have...some sort of plot, with a build-up to something veeeery NSFW. It starts this chapter and at least 90% of the next chapter will be pure smut with some fluff, too. hope you enjoy, my babes. 
> 
> oh, and thank you so much for all you lovely people who leave comments and kudos. You always make my week, so keep 'em coming x

‘Well, actually, I have two _problems_ ’, Dani corrects, tugging her leggings back up and tucking her undershirt in. ‘For one, in less than two hours I have this this business-dinner with the investors, you know the ones that were here last week? And I can’t show up looking like _that’_ , she offers with a teasing look, and you know she really means _like I just got fucked against a wall._

‘Or we won’t get the investment I fought tooth and nail for… Oh, and I absolutely need to shower first’, Dani continues and the way she says it she actually intends _can’t risk smelling like sex._ ‘Also, change into something else.’ She grins as she plucks at her jumper to underline the fact that she doesn’t look very Ms. Clayton-y right now.

‘And for two, that means I can’t return the favour for now, or I’ll be terribly _terribly_ late, or- I won’t be there at all. You see, I am one-hundred percent certain, once I start I wouldn’t want to stop anymore’, Dani teases, her eyes raking over your body shamelessly. ‘But- I promise I make it up to you, yeah?’

You tuck a loose strand of hair lovingly behind her ear as you flash her a playful smile, ‘Oh, it was a pleasure, Dani. Really. Don’t feel like you need to-‘

She interrupts you as she brings you closer again by a gentle tug on your hips, kissing you so deep, so full that sunshine floods your soul. Dani pulls back a little, whispers, ‘I want to and you, Jamie, do too’, she arches a brow, ‘Or am I wrong?’

You feel the tip of your ears flashing hot and you’re looking away, trying to bite back a grin, ‘Well, no.’

Dani hums, a pleased expression on her features indicating she knew all along. ‘You’re not as hard to read as you might think. Or maybe’, she says, a hand finding its way underneath your tee, ‘it’s just me having a knack for making sense of your looks.’

Ignoring the way her fingers leave goosebumps in their wake as they brush over alert skin, you frown and tilt your head in question, ‘Ah, and what do I look like right now?’

‘Like you’re in desperate need of a fuck.’

Your jaw drops to the floor and you shake your head. _The audacity_. ‘The one you won’t give me’, you shoot back, raising a finger accusingly. You never took Dani for being such a tease.

‘I will, Jamie. You have my word’, she replies, voice slightly deeper in pitch. You know she must be thinking about all the things she wants to do to you, ‘I think it’ll be worth the wait.’

Dani’s drawing her thumb across your bottom lip and before you know it you open your mouth to you catch it between your teeth. She slowly pushes her finger further in and God help you, you close your lips around it instantly, sucking hungrily and not even attempting to hide how much you want her.

She watches you through her lashes with pink, kiss-swollen lips and you feel how it sets your loins on fire all over again and fills your veins with such desire you have to blink so you can see through the haze. Now you are the one with a _problem_.

‘And in the meantime…if it’s getting too much,

_[she knows **exactly** what she is doing, for fuck’s sake.]_

you know that you can always take care of yourself. Just make sure you think about me, yeah? And tell me afterwards.’

Dani proceeds to wink at you and the tiniest whine escapes your lips. Dani grins mischievously when she takes note of your reaction because it’s evident it’s something she was after.

She removes her finger again from your mouth. ‘Would love to know what you picture me doing to you’, she husks, now tracing the hinge of your jaw. Feeling emboldened by the way she looks at you with pure want, you ask, ‘What would you say if I told you-- that it wouldn’t be the first time I’d do that?’

She looks you over, half-pretending she doesn’t understand what you mean and half-pretending she already knew. The nerve. And you decide to just _say it_ because you have feeling she wants to hear it. ‘You know, fucking myself while thinking about you?’

Dani mulls over it for a moment, hums, and you have the impression it’s just a matter of drawing things out, because she _can_ , and then:

‘That I did the exact same thing.’

She looks _way_ too smug as she says this, sounds _way_ too confident and you’re not sure it should be allowed.

‘Maybe even more than once.’

You lean in closer as if it’s a secret, ‘You’re aware that I imagine you doing that now, right?’

And it’s true, you do: Dani with arched spine and her head thrown back on pillow in pleasure. Dani with both hands between her legs, one gripping a vibrator and she’s _riding_ it, the other one’s rubbing a strained bundle of nerves with skilled, soaked fingers. Then faster, then harder and finally, when she messes up the rhythm and her legs start to shake, she--

‘What do you think _I_ am doing if you tell me that you touched yourself to the thought of me?’, Dani asks teasingly, and you want to say _touché,_ but it dies on your tongue, when her fingers find home on your neck, squeezing gently enough to make your eyes slip shut. And you happen to really _like_ that.

You soft moan leaves you when she loosens the grip of her fingers, and there must be _something_ in your eyes when you open them again, and she just chuckles, ‘And _that_ I’ll keep in mind for future reference.’

*

It isn’t until much later that day – you’re on your couch, without knickers and wearing only a sleep-shirt, catching your breath from coming twice under five minutes – when your phone-screen lights up as Dani sends a new message.

_Hi. Could you do me a favor?_

_Anything,_ you type back, a lip caught between your teeth as you try to steady your breathing, _you just have to ask nicely, remember?_

Your brain goes places that are nothing short but sinful when you read her next text.

_How could I ever forget? I’m sure me just saying_ please _would get me anything I want._

Oh, and how true that is. Jesus, the thought alone gets you worked up all over again.

But then another message comes in right after: _All jokes aside… until we figure things out, please keep quiet about us, yeah?_

[You try to ignore how _we_ and _us_ tastes on your tongue as you read it, again. However, you can’t, you really can’t.]

_I got a reputation to uphold, especially after what happened with Edmund._

You were really hoping you were getting to this one. You had asked Owen about it, what it was that this Edmund did to Dani but he just smiled and said, _sorry,_ _mate, not my information to share._ Of course you respected that and didn’t press any further.

But now you’re curious and you can’t help it. _Want to tell me about it? Only if you’re comfortable sharing, of course x_

Dani’s next message is this:

_Oh, I had him fired because he spread the word about me that I had an affair with him. Told people about all kinds of things I presumably did. YIKES._ _If anyone found out about us, then people are going to make assumptions. That what Edmund claimed is true or that I have a thing for photographers._

You have no clue what to say to that. Maybe _sorry that happened to you._ Surely **not** _what is your thing then_ but then another message pops up and –

_In reality, I only have a one for gorgeous women. Thinking of one in particular._

You heart skips a beat in your chest when you realise she means you and chuckle to yourself, _don’t you worry, Dani, you’re secret is safe with me._

It’s her last message that makes you feel like you’re floating:

_In turn, you can have me any time and any place you want. Don’t be afraid to ask._

*

The next day. Team-meeting.

‘Now that the latest issue of Scarlet currently in print, it’s time we start planning for October’, Dani begins, looking up from her agenda and glancing around in the room. Her eyes are lingering on you a fleeting moment longer and can’t help but smile.

‘Any ideas?’, Dani asks, taking the cap off her pen so she can write the team’s suggestions on the whiteboard.

Molly speaks up first, excited to break the news, ‘I was thinking a _Free the Nipple_ campaign?’

Dani nods, encouraging her to continue. 

‘I know this has been done before, you know, in forms of demonstrations all around the globe. On social media as well, there are thousands of posts under the hashtag _freethenipple._ However -- given that we still aren’t were we are supposed to be, I’d say we try it our way? I think, we as Scarlet could really make a difference.’

‘What exactly did you have in mind?’, comes Dani’s next question. She’s all business mode, put together and professional and you can’t for the life of yours believe it’s the same woman who fell apart on your fingers less than 24 hours ago.

Today she wears a light-blue blouse with an adorable floral print, a loose-fitting beige blazer and white, ankle-high slacks. It looks fashionable and chic and all and you’re amazed by how flawless she looks every day, but you’d much rather see her not wearing anything at all.

‘I’d like to organize a peaceful protest’, Molly continues and it snaps you out of your daydream. ‘With signs and body paint and all that… the only difference to the demonstrations before is, that _we_ will be on the front line marching for equality.’

The other day Molly had asked in your teams’ group chat who’d be up for supporting the cause and wants to join her, topless and with a huge banner that reads _Scarlet says ‘FREE THE NIPPLE!’_ right there in the front. A few of your colleagues already decided to partake.

While you thought about it, an idea slowly formed in your head and you decide that now’s the ideal moment to reveal it:

‘And while we’re at it, we could film the whole process from beginning to end and make a little documentary?’, you suggest, really hoping your colleagues find it as thrilling as you do. ‘We’d need a cinematographer for the filming process, of course. And I’d take the pictures’, you pause, to increase the impact of what you’ll be saying next. ‘Also topless if that helps.’ You grin, stealing a glance at Dani, whose cheeks turn the slightest pink at that, ‘and then I’d love to take care of the editing of the video? Incorporate the photographs and accentuate it musically?’

Dani clears her throat, as if to get rid of a lump in her throat that formed at the thought of you -- ‘Sounds amazing. Molly, please send me your team’s draft of your project by tomorrow morning. We’ll figure out the rest from there.’

Dani frowns, bringing her hand to her face in a thinking gesture, ‘If we really want to be the change we want to see in the world, then we need each and everyone on board.’

A couple of _mhmms_ and _absolutelys_ fill the air and it’s clear how everyone is already thinking about how they can help make this a project a success.

Owen nods in agreement, says, ‘Yeah, we don’t live in the Nipple Ages anymore. About time to put an end to this bulltit.’

Dani huffs, rolling her eyes affectionally, ‘Oh good _Lord_ , Owen-- get the hell out of here.’

*

Later that day you realize the subscription of video-editing software that Edmund has used when he was still here, has run out. You do some research on a new program because the one he worked with is outdated, and, quite frankly, for beginners. 

After a while you find what you’re looking for but you want to run the idea by Dani first. You have been granted a certain independency around here, however, you won’t purchase anything without her approval.

You think about popping into her office but then Dani passes by your desk right when you’re about to make your way, so you take the opportunity to ask her about it, ‘Hey, Dani. You got a moment?’

‘Sure’, she smiles affectionately as she steps closer. ‘For you, always.’ She looks over your shoulder at your computer screen, with one hand leaning onto your desk, ‘Tell me everything.’

You swallow, unable to ignore how _hard_ it is to be in a room with her now, after what happened between the two of you and that it’s a wonder you’re even capable of keeping your hands to yourself. Your eyes, though? They’re constantly looking for her.

You tap onto the surface, trying to get back on track, ‘I, uh, found a video-software that is perfect for our project.’

‘Oh really?’, she asks, a flirtatious edge to her voice as she’s leaning in closer than normal, and you ask yourself why _that_ is necessary now. Somehow, though, you have a feeling she’s just testing how far you can go until you break.

You nod, concentrating on the words on the website rather than the fact how easily she can turn you on, ‘Mh-mm, it has over 500 built-in transitions, templates, and overlay effects’, you explain as you click through the offer, ‘Exclusive features and creative packs, as well as plug-ins for turning a video into an animation.’

Dani hums thoughtfully, as you show her the price for the software, 49 dollars per month, seasonal packages included. ‘Sounds like a fair price to me.’

‘Already got a little idea floating around in my head’, you carry on as you show her a little doodle you made when you were thinking about how to create the opening-credits for the documentary, ‘Basically it’s just boobs, in all colours and sizes and forms.’ 

Dani giggles, taking your notebook in her hands so she can look at it better. ‘I want that as my background once you’re done’, she comments as she hands it back to you, ‘It’s like…the breast thing I’ve _ever_ seen.’ 

You turn to look at her, unable to believe what she just said, ‘Excuse me? Weren’t you the one that teased Owen about his nipple pun earlier today?’, you raise an eyebrow, and you laugh now, ‘Sorry, but he’s the only one who is allowed to make terrible jokes.’

She shrugs, laughing alongside with you, ‘Couldn’t help it. I’ve seen an opportunity and I took it.’

You turn your attention back to the screen, shaking your head. You’re still amused by that silly pun, and when you remember how silly, you laugh again and she smacks your arm lightly.

‘No, seriously, Jamie, I very much like-- your idea.’

By the end of her sentence, her voice breaks a little. And as far as you know, it’s a tell-tale sign that she’s—

No. that can’t be.

And yet,

‘That’, she whispers against the shell of your ear as she moves closer, ‘and your fingers. Can’t even look at them without wishing they were inside of me. They’re. Really. Fucking. Distracting.’

Your breathing stops and you feel like all air has been stolen from your lungs.

‘ _Fuck_. You can’t do that, Dani.’

Dani’s breath is hot on the side of your neck and it takes every last ounce of your self-control at this point, ‘Oh, am I in trouble now?’

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself, ‘You most definitely are, yeah.’

Dani pulls back a little, ‘Well, then I’d like to do what I can to get back in your good graces.’ You can hear the grin in her voice as she squeezes your shoulder, murmuring, ‘Meet me in my office later?’

*

It’s clear that with _later_ Dani really meant _when everyone else is gone._ And so you wait, even forgetting time, as you get to know the new video-editing software. You don’t even notice that it’s gotten dark out and that all your colleagues have already called it a day.

‘You wanted to talk to me?’, you say as you step into Dani’s office where she sits at her desk, proof-reading some articles. You catch your lip between your teeth, when you notice she has taken her blazer off and has undone the top buttons of her blouse, revealing a strip of soft skin.

‘I never said we would talk’, Dani replies, never looking up from the documents that are splayed out in front of her. She scribbles some notes down on the paper, mumbling something unintelligible.

It’s obvious to you that this – not really paying attention to you – is a tactic of hers and that she’s simply playing-hard-to-get. You chew on the inside of your cheek, as you come up with an idea. You don’t think she’ll able to ignore that.

You walk over and sit down next to her onto her desk, not caring that your ass covers most of the articles. ‘Well, given you’re not in the mood for talking, want to fuck me on your desk, then?’ 

Your question catches Dani off guard and she looks up. Her eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. But then her expression turns into something else and you can see how her eyes turn black when she registers what you just said.

A tongue darts out to wet her lips and a look appears on her features, that could only be described as hungry. And oh, how it does things to you. She nods, ‘Yeah, I definitely like the sound of that...’

‘If you like the sound of that. How much will you like me moaning your name?’

‘Fuck, Jamie, I --'

The end of it never comes. You bow down to pull her in by her neck and bring her mouth up to yours in a hungry kiss. You kiss her as if you’re under water and she’s the only chance for you to breathe. You’re drowning and she’s the one who’s bringing you back to the surface, breathing life into you. Your lick hungrily into her mouth and she’s doing the same, her lips are moving softly aginst yours, tongues are dancing with one another in such a harmony as if they’ve done it a million times before.

‘Hold on, let me just’, she pulls back, clears her throat. ‘Make some space here.’

Dani doesn’t waste any more time after that. Stands and puts her pens back into her pencil case and starts to collect the sheets of paper. You lift your ass, so she can take those too, but other than that you make no effort to help her. You chuckle when she almost rips one article apart as she goes, ‘So sorry, ‘bout that.’

Dani scoffs, picking up on the sarcastic quality to your voice and your teasing attitude, ‘You’re not really sorry, are you?’

‘Nah, not really.’

You hum, as you watch her continue wrapping things up, ‘But I wonder… What are you going to tell them, when you hand it back and it’s all wrinkled and has the shape of my ass on it?’

‘I don’t think anyone could see that. It’s paper, Jamie’, Dani retorts, and you can tell she’s starting to get irritated by your teasing.

Good _._

‘And what will Anthony think when he comes in here tomorrow like he does everyday, watering your plants and bringing you coffee and notices there are some-‘, you cough for emphasis, ‘stains ... on your desk?’

She shoots you a warning look, and it makes your neck hair stand up, ‘ _Jamie_...’

Anyway, you can’t seem to be able to stop your mocking. You desperately want to see how far you can go.

‘Folks may not be able to tell that my ass or any other body part of mine, for that matter, has touched that desk, but you, _you_ _will know_.’

‘You know what’, Dani responds after a long moment, turning her face to you. You can tell she’s slowly losing her patience. ‘I think I will actually enjoy it, when I think back and remember how I took you from behind on this very desk. So, I kind of really _want_ your body on here--’

‘Is that... How you want me?’

‘From behind? Yeah.’

_Oh._

It doesn’t happen often that you’re rendered speechless but this is definitely one of those moments. As soon as you’re around her and she’s saying things like that your oh-so-cheeky self suddenly doesn’t know what to say.

You’re not even thinking anymore.

Dani puts her belongings into her purse, throwing it carelessly onto a chair. She stands in between your legs now, unbuckling your belt and inhale sharply as she pulls you closer by your beltloops.

‘Thinking about it, though, I’d much rather have you like that in my bed, later. As in right now, I have other plans. With you.’

Dani undoes the button of your denims and slowly drags down the zipper, ‘I promised to make it up to you, didn’t I? And I never break my promises.’

Her tone indicates there’s a _but_ to follow up to that but you don’t want to take a risk by saying something stupid.

‘However’, Dani carries on, tracing the edge of your underwear’s waistband, ‘while I was thinking the whole day, how I could redeem myself for what I said to you earlier-,’ she tugs gently on the top of it,

‘May I?’

_‘Yes.’_

[You think you should be embarrassed how fast that answer comes, but you don’t have it in you to care about that. All that you want right now is that Dani fixes the mess she made you.]

Dani bites her lip, slipping her fingers underneath the fabric, ‘- I’m beginning to think you’re the one who needs to ask for forgiveness. Coming in here and talking to me like that.’

Dani’s hand dips lower and immediately find what they were looking for. You feel your own slick heat on her fingers as she explores you. There’s something _feral_ glinting in her eyes now and it almost kills you on the spot.

‘But it got me-’, she caresses you with barely-there touches, making your hips jerk into her palm, ‘-what I wanted. So, I don’t, _mhmm_ , have any -- regrets.’

Her fingers slide down to your entrance, teasing you with just one finger and only one knuckle deep, but your walls greedily clench around it regardless. And God, you desperately want her _inside_.

‘You’re just lucky, I’ve been thinking about doing this all day’, she admits, bringing her arousal-soaked fingers back up to finally start some sort of rhythm. But it’s deliberate and gentle and nowhere near enough.

She ducks in, placing hot open-mouthed kisses up your throat, ‘Under other circumstances’, she continues, nibbling on your earlobe, ’with this attitude of yours, things would be playing out differently.’

She’s sucking on your pulse-point until it stings deliciously, while continuing to tease you with her fingers, ‘Oh yeah?’, you choke out, grinding down onto her hand in search of more friction. 

Dani hums against your skin, making your whole body vibrate to the bone, ‘Maybe you’ll get to see for yourself one day.’

She soothes the love-bites with her tongue and you realise you wouldn’t mind if they’re still there tomorrow, wouldn’t mind if she were to claim you.

‘I sure hope I do’, you manage to get out between controlled breaths, ‘see lots of things. Mostly-- I want to see you, though.’

Dani teeters from your neck to your mouth, ‘You do?’

Teeth are sinking lightly into your bottom lip, biting soft enough to make you gasp.

‘Yeah-- preferably, naked’, you growl under your breath.

‘Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you?’, Dani reprimands, _finally_ sinking one finger deeper into your wetness, making your walls twitch in pleasure.

‘Would love to, actually’, you breathe out, a low, carnal moan coming from the back of your throat when she curls her finger.

She pulls back enough to see your face, and it’s impossible to ignore the way she looks at you, lust written all over her features, passion-drunk eyes taking your breath away, ‘And now. Stop talking.’

Even though it’s difficult to not close your eyes - when she watches you like that, _feels_ like that - you hold her gaze, flashing her a challenging look,

‘Make me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will most likely be the penultimate chapter, maybe I'll write an epilogue, we'll see x
> 
> if you have any ideas of what you want them to do when they FINALLY do it PROPERLY in a BED, here's your chance.
> 
> [insert begging for comments here, lol]


	6. you think you can wait?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dani leans back in her chair, entirely too pleased, flicking though the pages of the folder, ‘Now, as you may have heard, I always like to check in on newcomers after a few weeks to see how they’re settled in.’ 
> 
> She’s pretending as if this is nothing but a typical boss-employee talk. For a second you deadass believe it is, because Dani plays her part ridiculously convincing. 
> 
> Dani tilts her head to the side, eyes never leaving yours, ‘So, how are things, Jamie? Do you like your new job? Are you getting along with your colleagues?’, Dani pauses, deliberately touches a faint red spot right above her collarbone – a bite-mark you must’ve left yesterday on accident – visible to no one else but her. ‘How about your boss? Is she treating you alright?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> figured I can't wrap this story up the way I wanted without it feeling rushed. it's not that i don't like writing it - quite the opposite - but i'm working full time and writing my bachelor thesis, which means i don't have as much time to write as i'd like. But i love this story and i'd like to give it an ending it deserves, so there will be a few more chapters! it also means it will probably take a bit longer between updates, but i'm sure you'll understand. i'd love to take the opportunity to remind you all (the authors themselves know it) that your fan fic writers are people with lives too, so please respect that when it comes to chapter updates that take a bit longer. thank you & much love x
> 
> also, in my head dani is a top and jamie a bottom, deal with it. (might have to do with Love Quinn, but whatever)
> 
> In this fic we have a little YOU easter egg, i'm curious who of you will notice it! this chapter is a bit longer, as a little apology for the missing update last week.
> 
> that being said, enjoy! x

If a month ago someone told you that you’d be doing _this_ your second week on the new job, you wouldn’t have believed them. You would’ve laughed and told them, ‘Sounds like one of those porn videos if you ask me.’ And then, sarcastically, ‘Where do I sign up?’

However, here you are: In your boss’ office - she’s on her knees before you with her head buried between your legs and you think this must be it… _the_ recipe of a disaster. There’s no way this going to end well.

But you can’t seem to bring yourself to care. Not now, anyway. Not when your fingers curl into her hair as you push her closer, not when you grind furiously down on her tongue, not when she breathes hot and heavily against wet and swollen skin.

Her nails are biting into your thighs but you barely feel it, don’t feel anything beside the way she fucks you right. She replaces her tongue with two fingers, plunging them inside with an utterly _filthy_ sound, curling them upward, instantly finding the perfect spot and you almost topple over. 

‘Thank God, _finally_ ’, you moan, when Dani closes her mouth around your hardened clit and starts sucking as if her life depends on it.

You feel your walls greedily clenching around Dani’s fingers, instantly asking for more and Dani’s adding another just then and you groan at the stretch it creates.

‘Mhm, right there’, you cry out, when Dani’s fingers pump into you, furiously and unforgiving, and you hold onto the desk so hard your knuckles turn white, afraid you’ll collapse if you don’t.

The mix of sensations is of _that_ sort of intensity that makes you feel like you’re burning up and your mind is filled with nothing else but the need to come.

Mercifully, it doesn’t take long for your climax to build. And really, you aren’t even surprised at what speed it’s happening.

When she looks up from where she’s kneeling, a look on Dani’s face, that’s pure, carnal _hunger_ , you feel the beginnings of your orgasm slamming into you.

Christ, you’re literal _seconds_ away from reaching your peak when –

Dani _stops_.

*

Dani stops, and, from one moment to the next she withdraws her clever fingers from your wetness, releases your straining, pulsating clit from her mouth, leaving you feeling _unfilled_ and making your walls spasm around nothing.

You blink a few times, exhaling a shaky breath, ‘ _Fucking hell_ , Dani _,_ why would you --'

Your words, thick with desperation and frustration, get cut off by a hand that shoots up, covering your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise and your heart stutters in your chest.

And somehow you’re embarrassingly turned on by the fact that this is how she decides to shut you up. You can’t for the life of you hold back the whimpering noise you make, her palm muffling the sound.

Dani, a wild, terrified look in her eyes, shushes you, ‘ _Fuck_ , I think someone’s coming, Jamie _._ ’

She pulls her hand away then, wiping her arousal-coated mouth and chin with the back of her hand, ‘Come on, get dressed.’

When realization finally hits – it’s a fraction of a second only, but still - your nerves kick into overdrive and you feel panic seeping into your bones. That’s _not_ how you wanted this to go. 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you inhale and exhale through your nose to regain control over your heavy breathing while yanking your jeans back up and fastening your belt with shaky fingers.

It doesn’t take you more than fifteen seconds by the time you’re dragging your shirt back down. But that is more than enough to turn someone’s life upside-down, so you pray to whoever might listen that this isn’t the end. It can’t end before it even had a chance to truly begin.

In the meantime Dani throws her blazer on, flattens out the fabric of her blouse as well as she can and bends forward to run a hand through her tousled waves and whips them back in a fashion that makes you almost forget where you are.

‘Act casual’, Dani instructs on exhale, pointing a finger at the chair on the other side of her desk, motioning you to sit down. ‘And play along.’

Your soul has not fully returned into your body yet and you still struggle to form another thought apart from _fucking fuck_ and _oh my god_ , but your legs are still functioning and you take a seat.

While she grabs a black folder from her drawer and placing it on her desk, your breathing seems to back to normal but your racing heart almost makes its way out of your chest.

You close your eyes for a moment to take a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the pavement beneath your feet to ground yourself, to remind yourself you’re here and you’re okay. Nothing’s lost yet.

When you open them again, there’s a small tentative smile on Dani’s lips and she gives you a firm nod, murmuring, ‘We got this.’ And all you can do is trust her on this one.

You bob your head, mouthing, ‘Okay.’

The transformation from Dani to Miss Clayton seems to happen in the blink of an eye. She switches between these two versions of her so quickly, so smoothly, like an actress playing the same role for years and years. It’s fascinating.

‘Thank you, Jamie, for being available at such short notice’, Dani starts, flipping the folder open. You blink. This is really happening, isn’t it?

‘This week has been an exciting one for all of us: our newest project, the Wingrave Brother’s agreeing to be our partners and investing in Scarlet.’

You feel how she relaxes once she’s fully back in her element, back in control. Dani shakes her head, grins. ‘It’s definitely been a _wild ride_.’

You don’t miss how she says it. Couldn’t even if you tried. In fact, you delight in the way she always seems to fall back into this little habit of flirting with you, no matter the circumstances.

You also notice how she lets you see beneath the surface, see the real Dani. Maybe without her even realizing she’s doing it. Even in a situation like this one, she doesn’t hide all of her. Can’t, maybe.

‘You see, I have a very busy schedule. In case a meeting is cancelled I always try to fill those gaps with things which I’m usually postponing in favour of more relevant businesses. Sooner or later I’ll have to get around to them anyway, because they’re just –’ Dani pauses, winks, ‘as _important_.’

You take a sharp intake of breath, squeezing your legs together looking for a semblance of relief, because this, despite it all, is fucking hot and you don’t know what to do.

Dani leans back in her chair, entirely too pleased, flicking though the pages of the folder, ‘Now, as you may have heard, I always like to check in on newcomers after a few weeks to see how they’re settled in.’

She’s pretending as if this is nothing but a typical boss-employee talk. For a second you deadass believe it is, because Dani plays her part ridiculously convincing.

Dani tilts her head to the side, eyes never leaving yours, ‘So, how are things, Jamie? Do you like your new job? Are you getting along with your colleagues?’, Dani pauses, deliberately touches a faint red spot right above her collarbone – a bite-mark you must’ve left yesterday on accident – visible to no one else but her. ‘How about your boss? Is she treating you alright?’

You swallow. This is _not_ fair.

Just when you’re about to mumble a flummoxed response your attention is caught by a strange noise outside Dani’s office. You turn your head to find out where it’s coming from.

And with ‘strange’ you mean … not very office-like?

It’s not the sound of a computer booting up or the buzz of the coffee machine or the clattering of fingers on a keyboard.

Instead, it’s something that sounds a lot like … a mop dipping in a water filled bucked. A mop that hits the floor with a wet smack…

Unfortunately, you can’t see anyone from where you’re sitting. You rise from your chair, ignoring Dani’s _what are you doing?_ and standing on your tiptoes as your eyes flit around the area outside her office.

You feel a rush of relief, almost as if a heavy stone has fallen from your heart, when your eyes land on the ‘intruder’. It’s not one of your co-workers. Or one of Dani’s superiors. It’s just a bloke from the cleaning staff.

A bloke from the cleaning staff, that happens to be blasting some loud tunes over his headphones, his head bobbing in rhythm with the stokes of the mop, mouthing the words of the song.

That means--

He definitely _didn’t_ hear you. He couldn’t have seen you either, you realize, given that there’s a huge palm in front of Dani’s office blocking the view to her desk.

There’s absolutely no way he has caught on anything Dani and you have been doing.

*

‘Do you … wanna get out of here?’, you ask a little while later, smiling seductively as your foot brushes against her leg, slowly inching higher.

After you both laughed heartily about the ridiculousness of the whole situation and promising yourselves to be more careful in the future, the mood quickly shifts from _thank fuck, we got away_ to _now, where were we?_

‘Yes, please’, Dani husks, her gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips, lingering there for a second or two, before wandering lower, biting the corner of her lip, ‘I think … I have a job to finish.’

You nod eagerly, not wanting to spend another minute longer than strictly necessary in this state as you dig for your phone in your pocket, ‘I’ll get us an Uber.’

*

As soon as the elevator door closes, Dani pins you up against the wall kissing you passionately and hungrily, trying to making up for lost time.

A tongue is slipping in your mouth, a thigh sliding between your legs and your fingers are threading into her hair again as you kiss her back, pulling her impossibly closer, her leg gently pushing upwards.

Having been so close just minutes before, this is too much for you to take. You moan loudly into the kiss as you grind down onto her thigh, feeling how your hot arousal smears onto the fabric of your briefs. ‘God, _fuck.’_

Dani groans in response, her hands clutching at your hips, encouraging you to grind harder, _faster_. ‘You think you can wait?’, comes Dani’s question, her voice barely above a whisper.

‘Yeah’, you hear yourself say but it sounds highly questionable, even to you. You’d say you could go without release until you’re back at her place, but then _Dani_ needs to stop what she’s doing right now - you most definitely _can’t_.

You continue to roll your hips, desperate and uninhibited, tugging at Dani’s hair at the base of her skull when it hits the right spot, moaning softly into Dani’s ear, while she trails bruising kisses down the length of your throat.

You don’t think it has ever happened before, but it seems like your wetness starts soaking _through_ your jeans. The realization has you tilting your head back onto the metal wall of the elevator, ‘ _Jesus_ , Dani.’

When a hand makes its way to your throat, fingers closing around it, gently choking you, you know one thing for sure: there’s absolutely no going back now… you’re so going to come on Dani’s thigh.

‘ _Fuck_ , I don’t think I can’, Dani husks into your ear, letting go of your throat and dipping underneath your shirt, nails scratching at your sides, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your answer follows as soon as the words have fallen from between her lips, ‘Then don’t.’

You can feel her smirk against your skin, fingers moving to your belt to unbuckle it for the second time tonight, ‘We have about thirty seconds, which I think we can make that work.’

With her free hand she fishes a key out of her pocket, slotting it into a lock right below the emergency button, ‘Will bring us straight to the ground floor’, she murmurs, before turning it and setting the elevator in motion.

Then her hand is slipping inside your jeans, inside your underwear, reminding you again that you only have about half a minute to come.

You nod loosely, ‘Won’t need –’

_That long,_ you want to say, but then the words die on your tongue when Dani’s fingers are finally where you needed them all along.

‘God, you’re so wet, Jamie. It’s so fucking sexy, _holy shit’,_ she whispers into your mouth, fingers gliding through slick folds, spreading your arousal maddingly slow over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You groan in response, hips frantically bucking into her palm, because even now she can’t stop teasing and it’s driving you insane, ‘Dani, _please._ ’

‘That’s what I wanted to hear’, she rasps, teeth tugging gently on your bottom lip as her fingers start to move in quick, tight circles.

‘ _Fuck_ , thank you’, you say, your voice breaking around the end as you give into the sensation fully, realizing you’re completely at her mercy.

Her free hand finds home on your neck again, repeating the action from earlier and it sends a new gush of heat flooding between your legs and you feel your arousal trickling down your thighs _._ When Dani realizes, her own hunger multiplies and she presses in harder, strokes your clit faster, determined to make you come as fast as she can.

Because there’s no room for Dani’s fingers to slip inside and no time to pull down your denims, you do the second best thing you can do to speed things up: You start to work your muscles, making your walls tighten and release, tighten and release, tighten and release, over and over again. Like that you’re teasing your g-spot without anything touching it, intensifying the build-up, combining two strong sensations and –

Well.

It doesn’t take more than a few clenches of your walls, a couple more circles of Dani’s skilful digits and your back is arching from the wall, your legs are trembling, your hands are pulling at Dani’s hair and you’re coming fast and hard onto her fingers, with a sound you never once before made in your life, wave after wave of pleasure crashing into you, as Dani fucks you right through it.

For a moment you’re not entirely sure where you are, your whole body tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, your muscles twitching rhythmically. It’s only when Dani places a soft kiss on the side mouth that you’re suddenly _very_ aware what just happened.

‘Such a good girl, Jamie’, Dani praises as she removes her hand, wiping it down on her slacks. You _immediately_ crave her fingers again. Now that you had another taste of her, you’re more certain than ever, that you can’t go without it anymore.

‘I didn’t think you could come in time’, Dani says teasingly, as she looks at the number above the exit that changes from 3 to 2. ‘Guess I have underestimated you.’

She grins deviously as she fastens your belt for you – because you’re still somewhere else - just in time for the elevator coming to the ground floor, opening its doors.

It isn’t until you’re sitting in the back set of your Uber on your way to Dani’s place, your hand squeezing her thigh seductively, when you realize she called you a good girl.

*

When you’re at hers twenty minutes later, admiring the stunning nightly view from her penthouse while Dani fixes you both a drink in her kitchen,

[Vodka martini for herself, _perfect, shaken and with a twist_ and yours with gin, _wet, stirred and with an olive_ ]

you can’t help but laugh as you remember the events of the evening.

Because you still can’t quite believe it actually happened, you need to ask, ‘You really did fuck me in an elevator? I didn’t just imagine it all, right?’

Turning your head, you see Dani standing on her tip-toes about to fetch two tall martini glasses from the cabinet. You completely lose your train of thought when her blouse rucks up as she reaches higher, revealing a flash of soft skin underneath.

Your mouth waters at the sight and you try to shake this sudden rush of lust for her, recalling what Dani told you earlier about wanting to take it slow this time, exploring each other’s bodies, savouring each moment.

‘Nope’, Dani replies, giving you a confident look as she pads over to the fridge to put the glasses in the freezer to chill, ‘I really did that.’

You laugh a little, rubbing the back of your neck, ‘Well, if you remember it happening too, then I guess it hasn’t been a figment of my imagination.’

‘No daydream could ever be that good, trust me’, she teases, flashing you a cocky grin, before ducking down to grab a few things from under the kitchen island.

Dani reappears with a fancy cocktail set, containing all the essentials: a shaker, a strainer, a jigger, a mixing glass and a bar spoon. You would’ve never taken Dani for someone who mixes professional drinks at home, but here she is, surprising you every day.

You shake your head when you realize something when your thoughts revert back to where they were before. Dani watches you with curious interest, while giving the cutting board a quick wash, ‘What?’

You shove your hands into your pockets, chuckling, ‘Well, first in my equipment room, then in your office, then in the elevator’, you say with a grin, returning your attention back to the skyline of Manhattan. ‘We’re living _the_ boss-employee cliché, you know that right?’

You look over your shoulder to where Dani stands to gauge her reaction, but you fail to read the expression on her face. Dani wipes the surface of the kitchen counter with a damp cloth before throwing it back into the sink.

‘One thing that hasn’t happened yet it a spouse running into us going at it’, she remarks nonchalantly, walking over to the fridge to get gin, vodka and dry vermouth.

‘We still have to get to the point where we won’t hear my husband come home because we’re way too occupied having sex’, she continues, placing the bottles on the counter. ‘Suddenly he’s standing in the doorway and all I can think of to say is _oh, you’re early,_ before running after him with nothing but sheets wrapped around my body, calling out things like _I can explain_ and _It’s not what it looks like_ before he storms out of the apartment without another word.’

Dani’s perfect stereotypical description of the cheating wife and the oblivious husband has you cracking up. Yeah, if that would be happening to you you’d be truly fucked. In every sense of the word.

However, your laughter dies in your throat as soon you notice the look on her face hasn’t faltered. When you realize she hasn’t been joking, you do a double take, ‘Wait. What?’

Dani clears her throat, opens the fridge once more and reaches in for a glass with olives and a half a lemon and puts the items next to the liquor. She looks up but she’s not quite meeting your eyes, ‘I failed to mention that haven’t I?’

Your brain stutters and every part of you goes on pause while your thoughts try to catch up on what Dani just said. _I failed to mention that haven’t I?_ Everything in you goes very quiet, your heart stops pumping blood through your veins and your breathing stops when you put two and two together.

Well. Fuck.

You open your mouth to say something. Anything. Close it again when you realize all words have left you. Open it. Close it again. You have no idea what you’re supposed to tell her now. You have no idea what to do either. Being her secret until you figure things out, whatever they end up being, is one thing. But being her mistress? That’s a whole other story.

But then something else happens and you don’t know what’s going on:

Dani’s lips curl up the tiniest bit and her eyes crinkle at the sides and –

You blink, trying to understand what you’re missing, but you’re confused, affronted, shocked and you can’t seem to see through the haze.

Anyway,

Before you know it Dani’s bursting out laughing and the world makes less and less sense. The world might have actually, at no point, made as little sense as it does now.

But then: it clicks.

You throw your head into your neck as you run both of your hands through your curls, groaning, ‘Fuck, Dani. Do you want to give me a heart attack?’

Dani shakes her head violently as she wipes away tears with her sleeve, her shoulders quivering in amusement. You want to be mad at her for messing with you, really want to, but you can’t helping the grin that breaks out on your face, ‘There are plenty of other things you could give me, you know?’

By this point she needs to hold herself up by the kitchen counter, dying laughing, ‘Oh God, Jamie’, she clips, her voice in a high pitched squeak, ‘You should have seen your face!’

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief as you walk over to the kitchen island, ‘I need a drink’, you sigh, snatching the vodka from the counter and taking a swig right from the bottle.

Dani, who has stopped laughing now, has at least the dignity to look a little sheepish. Clears her throat, smiles apologetically, ‘Sorry.’

‘You’, you warn, leaning forward and pointing an accusatory finger at her, relishing in the way Dani’s nostrils _flare_ , ‘are so going to pay for that.’

Dani sucks in a breath, her eyes flicking down, drawn to your lips, ‘That a promise?’

*

‘I now know how you like your Martini’, Dani says matter-of-factly as she takes a drink from her cocktail, looking you over in a truly shameless fashion, ‘But how do you like your women?’

Instead of replying to her question like you should, you flash her a playful grin and shoot the same back to her, ‘How do you like yours?’

Dani giggles, nudging your arm playfully, ‘Asked you first.’

‘Asked you second.’

Dani scoffs and rolls her eyes affectionately. You know you win this one. You smile smugly, tucking a strand of her waves behind her ear, ‘So?’

‘Well, I can’t put them together like a Martini, can I?’, she snickers, realizing her question wasn’t well thought through. You shake your head, joining her, ‘Nope, I’m afraid not.’

She brings her martini to her lips again before taking yours from your hand with a cheeky smile and sets them both down on the coffee table infront of the sofa. You watch her curiously, asking yourself what she’s up to now.

But’, Dani begins as she moves to sit in your lap, her knees on either side of your thighs, ‘If I could then I’d pick…’

Your hands are coming to rest on her waist, holding her close and she leans in, whispers, ‘Curly auburn hair, grey-green eyes and full pink lips.’

You let out a low chuckle, feeling your heart grow double the size, ‘That so?’

Dani pulls back, enough for you to see they’ve gone completely dark and she brushes over your bottom lip with the pad of her thumb while biting the corner of hers, ‘I think they are my favourite part.’

You hum, hands rubbing up and down her thighs, ‘You haven’t seen me naked yet, so…’

Dani tilts her head, smirks, ‘Wanna change that?’

‘Oh, I would love to.’

She leans in once more, tracing the outine of your lips with her tongue, a soft gasp falling from between them. She swallows the noise with languid, tender kiss as she rolls her hips slowly, sensually and it’s truly _something else._

For a moment you wonder what changed, but then you notice that this has never happened before. Not once. Back at the gay bar, in the equipment room, in her office and in the elevator: it has always been quick and dirty. Amazing all the same, but never like this.

‘I also like a sharp jawline’, Dani continues, voice hoarse and feverish as she’s running along the hinge of your jaw with her fingers, making your breath hitch in your throat.

‘Or a toned body.’

A hand is finding it’s way underneath your shirt; your eyes slip closed when they ghost over tense muscles, which lightly twitch at the contact.

‘Or an attractive smile.’

You open your eyes again, a genuine smile on her lips that you can’t help but respond in kind. ‘One that makes me weak in the knees.’

Oh. Okay.

Dani continues to roll her hips and you meet every movement of hers with one your own, trying to focus on her, on her words instead of the fact that you’re intensely aroused. Already. 

‘They definitely get bonus points if they’re flirting with me, are good in bed and remarkably talented at their job’, Dani husks, her breaths slightly shorter and more shallow. She must feel it too.

You blink, ‘Wait. You think I’m good in bed?’

Dani nods, ‘ _Bed_ is meant metaphorically, given we’ve never been in one. Together. But yeah, really good, actually. Would even go so far to say you’re _great_ ’, she says and you come to the realization that you really like when she tells you you’re good.

Oh, well. If that doesn’t awaken something in you.

She gives you a knowing look, as she starts to unbutton her blouse, ‘But to prove my theory I’d need to have another go. You know, just to be sure.’ 

‘Can’t really -- argue with that logic’, you admit, your own voice distant in your ears. You’re unable to tear your eyes away from the sight in front of you, almost as if she has cast a spell over you and is captivating you entirely.

*

Next thing is this: Dani’s clothes scattered around the floor, from the sofa in the living room to her door of bedroom. Her blouse beside the coffee table, her top next to the barstool by the kitchen island, her slacks right before the wooden chest in the hallway.

Not ten seconds after Dani’s figure drops out of sight – you’re still standing by the couch, rooted on the spot and unable to believe your own luck – her head pops out the door, ‘You coming?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments FUEL me, the more there are, the faster i write and the more motivated i am. please sponsor your local lesbian fan fic writer with a comment - doesn't matter what, keysmash, emoji, review. i take what i can get x

**Author's Note:**

> title from Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift because well, that's a rule now and you all know it. 
> 
> in case of mistakes, please accept my humble apology. I tend to become sort of text-blind and I don't see them anymore.


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